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ROMAN WOMEN ~ ~ 


by 
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THE RITTENHOUSE PRESS 
PHILADELPHIA 


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PRINTED IN U.S. A. 


PREFACE 


THE student of history does not proceed far in his 
researches before he discovers that human nature is a 
fixed quality. Other lands, other manners; other times, 
other customs. But the man behind the manner is essen- 
tially the same; the woman under the changed custom is 
not thereby rendered essentially different, any more than 
she is by a varying of costume. The women of ancient 
Rome exemplified the same virtues, and were impelled 
by the same foibles as are the women of to-day. And 
the difference in environment, the vanished conditions 
of Roman life, gain large scientific interest from the fact 
that they did not result in any dissimilarity of fundamental 
character. If, by the most violent exercise of the imagi- 
nation, it were possible to transport a female infant of the 
twentieth century, and cause her to be reared among 
the women of the Augustan age, she would fit as naturally 
into her surroundings as she would into the present society 
of London or of New York. Her legal status would be dif- 
ferent; her moral conceptions would be unlike those of the 
present age; her duties, pleasures, privileges, and limita- 
tions would combine to make the accidents of life very 
different. But underneath all this, the same humanity, 
the same femininity, the same habits of mind are revealed. 
Herein is the chief use of history—above that of gratify- 
ing natural curiosity—the ascertaining how human nature 

Vil 


Vili WOMAN 


will comport itself under varying conditions. The author 
hopes that the following pages, wherein the Roman woman 
is taken as an illustration, will be found of use to the stu- 
dent of the science of humanity, and not uninteresting to 
the reader inquisitive as to the manner of the ancient 
civilization, 

ALFRED BRITTAIN. 


s 


: —— @hapter ¥ ‘ 
e @Wioman of Legendary Home 


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THE WOMAN OF LEGENDARY ROME 


THE conditions which governed the life of woman in the 
earliest days of Roman history are too far removed from 
the searchlight of historical investigation for us to essay to 
indicate them with any degree of fulness and accuracy of 
detail. While it is true that the ancient writers have be- 
queathed to us records of historic events from the very 
founding of their nation, the source of their information is 
very questionable and its authenticity extremely doubtful. 
Rome did not cultivate literature until very late in her 
history; she was too greatly preoccupied in her rdle of 
conquering the world. Ata time when every Greek was 
acquainted with the noblest poetry produced by his gifted 
race, Rome had not produced a single writer whose name 
has been preserved. And if at that time she had pos- 
sessed any men of letters, it is quite certain that there 
were few of her citizens who would have been able to 
read their works. Hence, when the first attempt was 
made to write her history, the authors depended princi- 
pally for their material on traditions and legends which, as 
is the case with all such lore, had gained greatly in mar- 
vellousness at the expense of historical value. In addition 
to these sources, it is probable that during the early cen- 
turies annals were kept of the principal happenings in the 


3 


4 WOMAN 


State. According to Cicero, they were written at the end 
of each year by the high priest. These records were used 
by the first historians; and it is likely that the latter were 
not so greatly restrained, by their literary conscience, 
from enlarging on the material, as they were tempted, 
according to the power of their imagination, to present a 
picture both interesting and satisfactory to the national 
pride. In many cases, as where the exact words of their 
characters are reported, the ancient historians evidently 
deemed that any deficiencies in the matter of proof were 
abundantly atoned for by the explicitness of the informa- 
tion given. 

As to the historical value of legends, that is a ole tention 
upon which modern writers are inclined to disagree. Since 
the inauguration of the higher criticism, it has been the 
fashion for extremists entirely to disown any belief in 
the dramatis persone of ancient traditions. They claim 
that the names and the actions thus celebrated usually 
represent natural forces and historic evolutions; though, 
to the ordinary student, this would seem to require a re- 
markable amount of poetic inventiveness on the part of an 
undeveloped people. Moreover, it is not, perhaps, without 
reason that the student often looks upon the manner in 
which modern scholars reject the traditional contributions 
of the old historians as being a little arbitrary. What 
traveller has not found his patience sorely tried, while 
viewing with reverence the reputed site of some heroic 
or sacred occurrence of far-off days, as he recalled to 
memory the fact that the latest authorities hold that, 
while the thing might have taken place a few miles to the 
east or a short distance to the north, it, for certain erudite 
but unconvincing reasons, could not possibly have occurred 
on the spot where it has been located by the continuous 
belief of centuries? 


THE WOMAN OF LEGENDARY ROME 5 


The story of Rome from its founding to the end of the 
regal period, as it is told in the ancient classics, is no 
longer accepted as history. It is, for the most part, classi- 
fied with those mythical creations with which an uncul- 
tured people endeavor to account for the origin and the 
evolution and revolutions of their race. Yet, passing over 
the marvellous and the manifestly impossible, why may 
we not at least claim the right to believe the compilers of 
these ancient legends, when they tell us of certain names 
that were great in the beginning of their nation? Modern 
criticism may be right in asserting that it is not likely that 
the city on the Tiber was called Roma because a man 
named Romulus selected an uninhabited site and built 
upon it. Yet why may we not be allowed to believe that 
in those early times there was one hero so strong and 
masterful that he came to be known as preéminently the 
‘Man of Rome’’? The character may have been a real 
one, even though the city gave him his name, instead of 
the reverse, as later generations surmised. And inasmuch 
as there is an Alexandria, not to speak of innumerable 
modern ‘‘ villes’’ with well-known surnames for prefixes, 
it need not be thought a thing entirely incredible that the 
ancient city was really called after the man who estab- 
lished its importance. 

It is the habit of modern historians to look with suspicion 
upon stories such as those which form our sole material. 
for any personal illustration in this present chapter, be- 
cause they are of a kind so generally found in the legends 
of all nations. But may not the multiplication of these 
long-lived narratives, instead of disproving the intrinsic 
truth of any given one, simply serve to illustrate the fact 
that, human nature being a permanent factor, the doings 
of men under similar circumstances, in any age or local- 
ity, will be marked by a uniformity of character? For our 


6 WOMAN 


present purpose, however, if in such twilight as is given by 
long-preserved monuments and ancient relics, we choose 
to fancy that we perceive, moving about in their daily life, 
the feminine forms of traditional lore, the combination 
will only serve to form a more human, and really not less 
accurate, picture. 

The limits of our subject do not require that we should 
go back so far as the epoch of AEneas, the hero of Troy; 
nor need we take into consideration the part which he and 
Lavinia, his wife, may have played upon the Latin shores. 
Their traditional coming to Italy simply serves to indicate 
the fact that nearly all the tribes which inhabited the 
country at the commencement of Roman history were of 
the same branch of the great Aryan race as the Greeks. 
The Romans were the brothers of the Greeks. The 
former were of that same lithe, supple-bodied, straight- 
featured type which the wonderful art of the latter has 
enthroned, for all the ages, as the noblest realization of 
ideal physical beauty. 

But when we consider the rude conditions under which 
life was passed, it is probable that the highest examples 
of feminine grace would, in many respects, be open to 
severe criticism from the civilized and artificial taste which 
has prevailed in after ages. Those were the days of Arca- 
dian simplicity, which poetry has peopled with sweet and 
enticing Phyllises and Chloes, whose only occupation was 
to listen to the pipings of languishing shepherds. But, in 
reality, though life was simple and wants were few, the 
women, as in all semi-civilized communities, gave an over- 
plus of labor in return for the special exertions of the men 
in the chase and the combat. Hence, though the poetic 
conception may be alluring, we are compelled to believe 
that the reality possessed but few advantages that could 
arouse the envy of a modern village maiden. The woman 


THE WOMAN OF LEGENDARY ROME 7 


of earliest Rome was wholly a product of nature, endowed 
only with the unfailing charms of femininity, which were 
solely reinforced with the perfect health and vigor which 
come from a simple life. 

Of such a type we may imagine Rhea Sylvia, the 
legendary mother of Romulus and Remus. She was 
the daughter of a king, but one who was not a monarch 
in the later significance of the title. Of kings there were 
many in the Latium of those days. The title meant 
merely the patriarch of a clan, or the head man of a small 
city. The regal abode was probably a small, round struc- 
ture, built of wood and roofed with straw. It may have 
consisted of only one room, with a hole in the ceiling to 
admit light and allow the smoke to escape. Of furniture 
there was little more than rude tables and grass or leaf 
covered couches, together with the Lares, or household 
gods. But though life conditioned by such meagre acces- 
sories was simple, it was by no means idle, and there 
existed no such contempt for labor and handicraft among 
the Latin tribesmen as grew up in later times. The king 
himself followed the plow, while his wife and daughters 
were busy with the distaff and spindle, the hand loom and 
the needle. It was the duty of the women to spin the 
wool and to make all the clothing for the household. 
Education consisted solely of the training in the require- 
ments of this simple life, and was provided by no school 
other than the daily experience which the boys and girls 
gathered among their elders. The art of writing was in 
the earliest days not entirely unknown, though, during 
long years of slow development, it was employed only in 
painting public records on leaves and skins; or, if greater 
permanence was required, the records were scratched upon 
tablets of wood. The amusements of the people consisted 
mainly of the festivals and athletic games which were 


8 WOMAN 


held in honor of the gods. If it might only be believed 
that this life was as pleasant as it is pictured by Virgil, 
it would be easy to sympathize with the poet when he 
declares that he pined for such an existence himself. 
‘‘The husbandman cleaves the earth with the crooked 


plow. . . . Winter comes: the Sicyonian berry is 
pounded in the oil presses; and the autumn lays down 
its various productions. . . . Meanwhile, the sweet 


babes twine around their parents’ necks; his chaste fam- 
ily maintain their purity. The swain himself celebrates 
_ festal days; and extended on the grass, where a fire is in 
- the middle, and where his companions crown the bowl, in- 
vokes thee, O Lanzus, making libation. On an elm is set 
forth to the masters of the flock prizes to be contended for 
with the winged javelin; and they strip their rustic bodies 
for the friendly struggle.’’ Elsewhere the poet describes 
a home scene, where the man is working by the light of 
the winter fire: ‘‘Meanwhile, his spouse, cheering by song 
her tedious labor, runs over the webs with the shrill shut- 
tle; or over the fire boils down the liquor of the luscious 
must, and skims with leaves the tide of the trembling 
cauldron. This life of old the ancient Sabines followed; 
this, Remus and his brother strictly observed; thus Etruria 
grew in strength; and thus too did Rome become the glory 
and beauty of the world.”’ 

Unlike their sisters of Greece, the women of Rome 
were never secluded; yet their duties and responsibili- 
ties were strictly confined to domestic bounds. Here, 
however, while the husband was master, the wife was 
mistress. She took equal part with him in the worship 
of the family Lares, which worship was a prominent fea- 
ture in every Roman household; and if he were a priest, 
she, by her marriage to him, became a priestess. But, 
except in certain religious institutions, she had not the 


THE WOMAN OF LEGENDARY ROME 9 


slightest active connection with State or public affairs. 
That is, she had no such connection in theory and accord- 
ing to law; but it was in Rome as it has been in all ages 
and in all countries: there were no laws or customs that 
could prevent a woman who possessed gifts of mind and 
cherished ambitious projects from gaining some tool by 
means of whom her hand might turn the affairs of State 
to her will. 

To this strenuous class of women, however, Rhea Sylvia 
did not belong. Her euphonious name has been preserved, 
not because of any active influence which she wielded 
over the destinies of men, but because, through the simple 
function of motherhood, she introduced into the history of 
the world a strong man. She was the daughter of Numi- 
tor, to whom his father had bequeathed the kingdom of 
the Sylvian clan. But Amulius, another son, had driven 
his brother into exile, and, in order to secure himself 
in his usurpation, had put all his nephews to death. Rhea 
was spared, probably on account of the fact that the law 
did not allow women to reign, and hence her existence 
held no threat. Nevertheless, since of the women of 
princely houses are born possible claimants to thrones, 
Amulius deemed it best that some preventive measure 
should be taken. He evidently did not wish to commit 
unnecessary barbarities; and he also liked, if possible, to 
cover his self-protective actions with a gloss of seeming 
generosity. Rhea Sylvia should be the priestess of Vesta. 
Hers should be the honorable duty of guarding the per- 
petual fire which burned on the sacred hearth of the city. 
Thus she, as was befitting the daughter of Numitor, would 
be held in as high regard among the people as the queen 
herself. Incidentally, this would also preclude the possi- 
bility of any grandson appearing to claim the throne of 
the exiled Numitor; for the Vestals were most rigidly 


ee aon 


30 WOMAN 


pledged to a life of constant virginity. But how often 
have the gods, and sometimes even Nature herself, 
thwarted the most cunningly devised schemes of men! 
Upon this truism Amulius must have reflected, when, 
without any previous declaration of her intention, Rhea 
Sylvia introduced to the community a sturdy pair of twins. 
She declared that Mars was the father of her offspring; 
either, as Livy discreetly remarks, because she believed 


' it to be so, or because a god seemed the most creditable 


un nes; 


author of her offence. In those times, the possibility and 
the frequent occurrence of such matches were devoutly 
believed, and the first historians freely availed themselves 
of this belief to enhance the glory of their race, or of a 
powerful family, by establishing for it the reputation of 
a divine origin. The idea of superhuman parentage was | 
also a convenient means by which to account for, and 
sometimes excuse, the unusual character and extraordi- 
nary deeds of ancient heroes. In those days, when men’s 
faith was simple and uncritical, belief in divine incarnation 
presented no serious difficulty. 

It is evident, however, that Amulius was not greatly 
impressed with a sense of the sacredness of the children 
of the warrior-god. He threw the mother into prison, and 
ordered her sons to be drowned in the Tiber. But, as is 
usually and fortunately the case in legendary history, this 
order was intrusted to one who was either too pitiful o7 
too careless to give it thorough execution. The infants, 
in their cradle or upon a rude raft, were set afloat on the 
river, which was at that time in flood; the waters, how- 
ever, quickly subsided, and the boys were left alive on 
dry ground. Their cries attracted a shepherd named 
Faustulus, and by him they were carried to his home, 
where they were reared by his wife Laurentia. This 
woman is given a bad name by the ancients. They say 


THE WOMAN OF LEGENDARY ROME II 


that she was also called Lupa; and Lupa being the name 
applied to a woman of unchaste character, as well as the 
term used to designate a she-wolf, in this manner the scep- 
tics accounted for the marvellous story of the sons of Rhea 
being suckled by a wolf. But whatever may have been 
the failings of Laurentia, if there be any truth whatever 
in the legend, she made atonement by preserving the life 
of the founder of Rome. We will not follow these tradi- 
tions in their well-known details. Whether or not Romu- 
lus was indeed the first to select the site of the city which 
was to spread over seven hills by the Tiber and from 
them dominate the world is as impossible to determine 
as it would be unimportant to our subject if ascertained. 
The purpose before us is solely to inquire what part and 
lot woman had in the founding of the infant State. That 
her réle was mainly a passive one may be taken for 
granted, as being in accordance with the status of the 
weaker sex in the childhood of every race and nation. 
The ancient historians, who accepted the Romulus 
legend without question, portray for us the growing town, 
so sturdily and rapidly advancing in power and fame as to 
excite the wonder and the jealousy of neighboring com- 
munities. One cause to which is attributed this prosperity 
is interesting, since it led to a famous episode in which 
women played a leading though an unwilling part. We 
are told that Romulus opened within the bounds of the 
city an asylum, or place of refuge, where fugitives from 
justice or from servitude were received under the protec- 
tion of the gods. This attracted new citizens in great 
numbers, but such as contributed nothing to the respect- 
ability of the new State. The new-comers were, almost 
entirely, unmarried men; and soon the paucity of women 
in Rome gave cause for grave concern. Romulus had 
appointed a number of the leading citizens, whom he 


12 WOMAN 


named as Senators, to assist him in the government. But 
it was not in the power of these city fathers to aid him 
materially in securing a continued growth of the com- 
munity, unless wives could be provided. Ambassadors 
were despatched to the neighboring States, requesting 
treaties of alliance, and especially begging the privilege 
of intermarriage. Owing, doubtless, to the questionable 
character of the newly acquired inhabitants of Rome, 
this was a favor which no city was disposed to grant. 
Everywhere the ambassadors were confronted with the 
suggestion that an asylum be opened for women also, for 
only by such a plan could suitable mates be obtained 
for the men of Rome. Another reason, however, why 
wives were hard to obtain was the fact that women were 
comparatively scarce throughout Latium. The custom of 
exposing female infants to death was prevalent there, as 
in many other ancient races, daughters being looked upon 
as a source of weakness and expense to a family, as sons 
were a gain and a strength. Wives, however, being a 
necessity, the fathers of boys often secured as brides for 
their sons girls as.soon as they were born. This laid 
upon the parents of the latter the obligation to spare their 
lives and rear them. There is no evidence that the pur- 
chase of wives was ever a custom among the Romans. 
Indeed, the opposite was from time immemorial the prac- 
tice; a dower went with the bride. Hence it is easy to 
see why the Latin fathers were unwilling to bestow their 
daughters,—who were not likely to remain on their hands 
for lack of suitors,—and especially the dowers that went 
with them, upon the adventurous young men who had 
sought at Rome asylum from justice or vengeance. 

But in those ages, and especially in such a matter as 
the winning of wives, diplomacy was a resource not wholly 
depended upon. Among the marriage ceremonies of later 


THE WOMAN OF LEGENDARY ROME 13 


times, there was a custom of parting the hair of the Roman 
bride with a spear. In this we find a reminiscence of the 
period when marriage by capture was resorted to when 
there seemed urgent necessity. Thus Romulus deter- 
mined that what could not be gained by fair means should 
be obtained by the best method which came to hand. At 
the festival of the god Consus, appropriately the deity 
who presided over hidden deliberations, the seizure of the 
Sabine maidens was planned and carried out; and thus 
the Romans took to themselves wives. How closely this 
well-known story corresponds with facts, of course, cannot 
be determined. Possibly many of its details are attempts 
of later ages to account for wedding customs, the origin of 
which had been forgotten. But it is very probable that 
marriage by capture was common in the embryonic civili- 
zation of early Rome.. And there may have been one 
occasion when this rude method of wooing was adopted in 
so flagrant and wholesale a manner that it led to a war 
with the Sabines, by which the remembrance of the event 
was perpetuated in the traditions of the people. Michelet, 
commenting on this story in his brilliant manner, says: 
‘‘The progress of humanity is striking. Springing in 
India from mystical love, the ideal of woman assumes 
in Germany the features of savage virginity and gigantic 
force; in Greece, those of grace and stratagem, to arrive 
among the Romans at the highest pagan morality, to 
virgin and conjugal dignity. The Sabines only follow 
their ravishers on compulsion, but, become Roman ma- 
trons, they refuse to return to the paternal mansion, disarm 
their fathers and their husbands, and unite them in one 
city.’’ Plutarch says that it was in order to obtain for- 
giveness that the Romans assured certain privileges to 
their wives. No labor other than spinning should be de- 
manded of them; they should take the inside of the path; 


14 WOMAN 


nothing indecent should be done or said in their presence; 
they should not be summoned before the criminal judges; 
and their children should wear the prefexta and the bulla. 
Thus in the time of the Greek historian the barbarism of 
the old times was forgotten, and to the primitive constitu- 
tion was attributed all the civilization which it required 
centuries to bring about. 

As fair Helen brought woe to Troy, so the abduction of 
the Sabine maidens was followed by the bitter vengeance 
of their indignant masculine relatives. If we may believe 
the old historians, the women soon became reconciled to 
their enforced condition as wives of the Romans. Doubt- 
less the writers drew this conclusion more from their 
knowledge of the yielding disposition of feminine nature 
than from any precise acquaintance with the facts. It 
being totally uncustomary for the woman to be allowed 
any decision in the matter, it was a thing of small im- 
portance to her whether she was taken by her husband, 
without either her consent or that of her father, or whether 
she was given by her father to her husband, equally 
without being consulted. 

The Sabines waited patiently for a favorable opportu- 
nity; and when it came, they attacked the Romans with 
good success. They even gained possession of the strong- 
est fortifications of the city. But, according to the legend, 
they could not have won such advantage had it not been 
for the love of gaud of Tarpeia, the daughter of one of 
the captains of Romulus. Tatius, the King of the Sa- 
bines, induced her to open for him the gates, promising 
as a reward the golden bracelets which his soldiers wore 
upon their left arms. It is noticeable that the difficulties 
which must have surrounded an interview between the 
king and the maiden are discreetly ignored by the tradi- 
tion. She agreed to open the gate, on the pretence of 


THE WOMAN OF LEGENDARY ROME 15 


going forth to draw water for the sacrifice, and the Sabine 
men were thereupon to rush in. Everything took place 
as arranged, except that the misguided Tarpeia received 
much more than she had bargained for. Her request was 
for ‘‘that which they wore upon their left arms,’’ not 
remembering the fact that upon that arm they also carried 
their shields. The soldiers, as they entered, either through 
haste, or because they hated treachery though willing to 
avail themselves of it, threw at her their shields as well 
as their bracelets, and the girl was crushed to death be- 
neath their weight. A part of the hill which the Sabines 
thus gained was ever afterward called the Tarpeian Rock; 
and it became a place of execution, traitors being hurled 
from its summit. There is much about this story which 
justifies the suspicion that it arose from, or at least was 
adopted by, a desire on the part of the Romans to explain 
a defeat, rather than from any verifiable historical founda- 
tion. It looks like a case of the natural vanity of warlike 
men saving itself by means of an ungallant slur on the 
characteristic vanity of women. 

Taking the account as it stands, matters were now very 
serious for the Romans. The enemy had gained the cita- 
del, and a bloody conflict ensued. But the women whose 
abduction had brought on these troubles were also to be 
the means of making peace. As the battle was raging, the 
two armies were astounded to behold the Sabine women 
rushing from the homes of the Romans, not to make their 
escape, but to throw themselves between the combatants. 
With tears, they entreated their fathers and brothers to 
hear them. Their plea was voiced by a captive named 
Hersilia, who some historians hold was the wife of that 
Hostilius who afterward became King of Rome, while 
others claim that she had been taken by Romulus himself. 
Plutarch gives us her speech—of course, drawing from his 


16 WOMAN 


own imagination, though he is not far from what might 
have been the truth; for anyone may guess what would 
be likely on such an occasion. She said: ‘‘It is true we 
were ravished away unjustly and violently by those whose 
wives we now are; but that being done, we are bound 
to them by the strictest bonds, so that it is impossible 
for us not to weep and tremble at the danger of the men 
whom once we hated. You now come to force away wives 
from their husbands, and mothers from their children. 
Which shall we call the worse, their love making or your 
compassion? Restore to us our parents and kindred, but 
do not rob us of our husbands and children. We entreat 
you not to make us twice captive.’’ Whereupon, the 
Sabines learning that their daughters were not yearning 
to be rescued, and having no other good reason for carry- 
ing on the fight, a truce was declared. With a zealous 
determination to leave nothing unaccounted for, the tradi- 
tion relates how the women took their kindred into the 
city and proudly exhibited the comforts and indulgences 
they enjoyed with their husbands, whose wooing had been 
so unmannerly. This might well be, as the Sabines were 
a pastoral people and unaccustomed to what were to them 
the luxuries of city life. So peace was made; and we are 
told that it was in commemoration of this event that the 
ladies of Rome ever afterward celebrated the festival of 
the Matronalia on the first of March. It was their, custom 
to ascend in the morning in procession to the temple of 
Juno, and place at the feet of the goddess the flowers 
‘with which their heads were crowned. In the evening, 
in memory of the tokens of gratitude which the Sabine 
women received from their Roman husbands, they re- 
mained at home, adorned in their best attire, waiting for 
the customary gifts of their husbands and friends. At 
a date far later, we find Tibullus debating with himself, 


THE WOMAN OF LEGENDARY ROME 17 


in an exquisite little poem, what gift he shall send to 
his beloved Negra on the Calends of March. With the 
customary valuation which an author sets upon his own 
productions, he decides that he can give her nothing more 
acceptable than a copy of his poems, beautifully bound 
and adorned. 

Every nation has its traditional Golden Age, a period 
to which the poetic philosophers of degenerate after times 
love to refer in the assumption that then all things were 
at their best and men were perfectly happy. So all Roman 
ideals of civic concord are concentrated in and derived from 
the legendary reign of Numa Pompilius. He is described 
as not seeking the kingdom, but preferring the pleasures 
of reflection in a quiet life with Tatia, his like-minded and 
noble wife. But the honor was forced upon him, and he 
reigned in the spirit of a true philosopher. He formulated 
laws and established a system of morals in accordance 
with principles worthy of Marcus Aurelius. To him is 
given the credit of organizing the religious institutions of 
the Romans, and especially the college of Vestal Virgins. 
We have seen that, before his time, to certain maidens 
was assigned the duty of guarding the sacred fire, and at 
the same time their virgin purity. But Numa was said to 
have formulated the rules of the order, to have assigned 
precisely its duties, and to have built a house for Vesta. 
But there is not the least doubt that around the name 
Numa have clustered, and to him have been attributed, 
many advances in civilization which were the growth of 
centuries. This seems especially probable in view of the 
fact that Numa was a Sabine, one of the pastoral race 
which was naturally less advanced in culture than the 
people who were gathered in cities. 

What improvement may have found its way into the 
conditions of feminine life during this period, it is difficult 


18 WOMAN 


to determine. The useful arts are said to have grown 
greatly in favor. Numa is credited with having instituted 
guilds for the encouragement of flute blowers, goldsmiths, 
coppersmiths, carpenters, fullers, dyers, potters, and shoe- 
makers. Life would thus become more comfortable, and 
also be brightened by that which was pleasurable and orna- 
mental. This supposes an enlargement of the sphere of the. 
home, a consequent increasing of the interests and respon- 
sibilities of the women, and a softening effect upon their 
nature. There is also an indication that, as in ancient 
Germany, though the women may have had no part in 
the direct government of the State, yet the counsels of 
certain of their sex were followed by the lawmakers with 
a reverence akin to religion. There is a strong sugges- 
tion of feminine influence in the legends concerning the 
marital relations of Numa. Plutarch relates that Tatia, 
Numa’s estimable first wife, was separated from him by 
death after thirteen years of wedded felicity, and that after 
this he never married again, but sought to console himself 
by melancholy ramblings in the fields and woods. This 
gave rise to the story that, in a certain grove, he was 
accustomed to meet the goddess Egeria, who not only 
favored him with her love, but also endowed him with 
the wisdom to perform his duties with marvellous success. 
On the other hand, Livy, who probably knew neither 
more nor less about it, says that Numa consecrated this 
grove, with its grotto and spring of living water, to the 
Muses, who were accustomed there to meet his wife 
Egeria. Whether this Egeria is to be regarded as a mortal 
woman, perhaps the lawful wife of the king, or, what is 
considerably less likely, a divine being, cannot be decided 
from these traditions. But they surely have a value in 
that they indicate the willingness of the earliest Romans 
to attribute excellence in statesmanship on the part of 


THE WOMAN OF LEGENDARY ROME ite) 


their best men to the inspiration of members of the fair 
and gentle sex. 

After the death of Numa, the Romans elected as their 
king Tullus Hostilius, and thus a turbulent warrior suc- 
ceeded the peace-loving lawgiver. In this reign, instead of 
the poetic anachronism which portrays an abnormally ad- 
vanced civilization, we are brought back again to earth and 
to history and to a more accurate description of the prog- 
ress of the people. Much is revealed in the story by which 
Livy, in his inimitable manner, accounts for the Sororium 
Tigillium, or the Sister’s Post, a monument which he says 
was existent in hisown day. Here we not only encounter 
the terrible right of the father of a family over the lives of 
his children, but we also see that the tender instincts of a 
woman’s love were accounted as nothing in comparison 
with loyalty to the family and her duty of hatred to the 
enemies of the State. The heroic Horatius, single-handed 
after the death of his brothers, had slain the three cham- 
pions of the Alban army, and thus provided the first taste 
of the delight of subjugation to the city which was destined 
to become the mistress of the world. In the triumphal 
return to Rome, Horatius marched foremost of all the 
army, carrying before him the spoils of the three Alban 
brothers. As they neared the Porto Capena, the Roman 
women came forth to welcome the victors home. Among 
the rest came Horatia, the sister of the youthful conqueror. 
As she ran to embrace him, she noticed upon his shoulder 
a familiar robe; in fact, it was a soldier’s tunic which she 
had wrought with her own hands for one of the vanquished 
Curiatii, to whom she had been betrothed. The truth 
flashed upon the damsel’s mind in an instant. Her lover 
was dead, and that by the hand of her brother. With 
tears and lamentations, she began to call upon the name of 
her betrothed. Possibly with her cries of grief she joined 


20 WOMAN 


bitter upbraidings of her brother, who had saved himself 
and Rome at the cost of her bereavement. His sister’s 
lamentations, in the midst of his own triumph and the 
great public rejoicing, so greatly angered the excited youth 
that he drew his sword and stabbed her to the heart. As 
he did this, he cried: ‘*Go with thy unseasonable love; go 
and rejoin thy betrothed, thou who forgettest thy dead 
brothers, and him who remains, and thy country! So 
perish every woman who shall dare to lament the death 
of an enemy!’’ This atrocious murder raised, of course, 
a profound sensation among the people. They did not 
know which ought to outweigh the other: his awful crime 
or his brilliant exploit for the public good. The king ap- 
pointed duumvirs to try him. By these he was condemned 
to be beaten with rods, within or without the walls of the 
city, and then to be hanged. 

But the law gave to Horatius the right of appeal to the 
people, and in this second trial he found an effective advo- 
cate in his own father. The old man declared that he 
considered his daughter deservedly slain. Were it not so, 
he said, he would by his own authority as father have 
inflicted punishment on his son. It seems probable, how- 
ever, that Horatius senior took this course of argument, 
not because he did not regret his daughter, but because he 
hoped thereby to save himself from being bereft of all his 
children. ‘‘ Go, lictor,’’ he said, ‘‘ bind those hands which 
but a little while since, being armed, established sover- 
eignty for the Roman people. Strike him within the town, 
if thou wilt, but in presence of these trophies and spoils; 
without the town, but in the midst of the tombs of the 
Curiatii. Into what place can you lead him where 
the monuments of his glory do not protest against the 
horror of his punishment?’’ The tears of the father and 
the intrepidity of the son won for the latter absolution; 


THE WOMAN OF LEGENDARY ROME 21 


but the father was commanded: to make expiatory sacri- 
fices, and these were ever afterward continued in the 
Horatian family. As a further punishment, a beam was 
laid across the street and the young man made to pass 
under it, with veiled head, as under a yoke. 

Chronologically, this seems to be the appropriate place 
to introduce some reference to another race which, to no 
small extent, affected the early history of Rome and also 
the status of the Roman woman. From Etruria came the 
ancestor of the Tarquins, that proud dynasty which pro- 
vided two legends of the extreme opposite types of women: 
Tullia, the cruel and ambitious queen, and Lucretia, the ideal 
of conjugal faithfulness. Tanaquil, the never-forgotten 
helpmeet of an able man, also came from this people. 

The Etruscans have ever been a puzzle to historians 
and one of the principal enigmas in ethnology. Entirely 
unlike the Hellenic or Italiote races in appearance as well 
as in customs, even the ancients were at a loss to surmise 
whence this remarkable people originated. Dionysius 
says, ‘‘they claimed alliance with no people in the world.’’ 
Inquiry regarding them would not be so interesting, were 
it not that they have left such an abundance of proofs of 
their proficiency in art and advancement in civilized indus- 
try. At the time of which we are writing, they possessed 
the very respectable beginning of a literature. We have 
nearly two thousand of their inscriptions; but hardly a 
word are we able to interpret, for the Etruscan language 
is to-day what the Egyptian hieroglyphics were before 
Champollion. These people were the artists and the 
manufacturers for all Italy. In the museums of Europe 
are to be seen specimens of their art, such as statues, 
beautifully ornamented vases, bas-reliefs, and jewelry, 
which can but excite the wonder of the beholder by the 
richness of their execution. Their tombs have been found 


22 WOMAN 


to contain great quantities of such treasures, which they 
were in the habit of burying with their chiefs. Reclining 
on one of these tombs are the carved effigies of a man and 
his wife, represented as though resting upon a couch. If 
these figures give as correct an idea of the appearance of 
the Etruscans as they indicate artistic ability, they were a 
thickset people, with retreating foreheads, aquiline noses, 
and eyes rather oblique—all suggestive of the Asiatic type. 
The barbarous religious ideas of the Etruscans rendered 
the race gloomy and fatalistic. Their priests were sup- 
posed to be experts in divining the future; and their gods 
often required to be propitiated with human sacrifices. 
Their civilization had a powerful effect upon that of Rome. 
In Etruria women were treated with a respect unusual 
among the races of that time; and it may have been 
owing to this influence that the women of Rome enjoyed 
so much more liberty than their sisters of Greece. On 
the other hand, to the Etruscans’ characteristic delight 
in cruel sports has been attributed the introduction of 
gladiatorial contests in the arena at Rome. 

The traditional account of the origin of the Tarquin 
family is very uncertain historical data, the founder being 
represented as the son of a foreigner in Tarquinii, a city 
of Etruria, and his name Lucumo; while history seems 
to indicate that the /ucumon was an Etruscan chief magis- 
trate. However, we will take the legendary account as 
it stands. In it we are told that Lucumo had married a 
noble maiden of Tarquinii, called Tanaquil, a name that in 
after times became a household word among the Romans. 
When they wished to hold before their daughters the ideal 
of a good housewife, they exhorted them to emulate Queen 
Tanaquil. She was also called Caia Cecilia, ‘‘the good 
spinner’’; and to her memory and industry all young 
brides paid honor. From what is told of her, however, 


THE WOMAN OF LEGENDARY ROME 23 


she seems rather to have been an extraordinary type of 
the women whose ambitions urge their husbands in the 
quest of high political position and whose wise intuitions 
help to support their spouses in those positions when 
attained. 

These Etruscans were wealthy; but Lucumo could hope 
for no place of influence in Etruria, for the reason that he 
was the son of a foreigner. It is to Tanaquil, however, 
that the credit is given of having persuaded him to migrate 
to Rome. We can imagine her argument to have been 
that, in the new State, where all the nobility were of 
recent origin and where men were elevated for merit 
rather than for family descent, the courage and energy 
of her husband would give him the best chances of suc- 
cess. The story relates that, as they were about to enter 
Rome, an eagle swooped down from the skies and seized 
Lucumo’s cap in its talons. After flying around the 
chariot with loud screams, to their great astonishment 
the bird replaced the cap on the man’s head. In those 
times, the movements of birds were looked upon as the 
surest kind of omens, as indeed they were so regarded 
for centuries afterward; and among the first historians, 
the tradition of the entrance into Rome of a man destined 
to be its king, in which there was no mention made of 
an omen, would simply indicate a defect in the narrative 
which literary justice would require them to make good. 
Tanaquil, availing herself of the science of augury, in 
which the Etruscans were especially expert, declared that 
this was a sign that the highest honors were to be heaped 
upon her husband’s head. Down to very late times, 
Romans, even those of the keenest intellect, were largely 
influenced in their actions and decisions by such signs; 
and it is easy to see how omens might seem valid, inas- 
much as they contributed in no small degree to their 


24 WOMAN 


own fulfilment by encouraging or depressing those who 
thoroughly believed in them. 

In the city, our legendary Etruscan changed his name 
to Lucius Tarquinius Priscus. His riches and talents soon 
availed with the Romans, and he was appointed guard- 
ian to the king’s children. When Ancus died, Tarquin 
succeeded in persuading the people to elect him to the 
throne; and he was not mistaken in his estimation of his 
own fitness for that position, for his rule was in every 
way beneficial. He enlarged the territory of the State 
and undertook many worthy public works. To this period 
is attributed the building of the great subterranean sewers 
for draining the city. Lasting, though inelegant, monu- 
ments these; for after twenty-five centuries have passed 
away, and after so many Romes have arisen and fallen 
above them, the cloace of Tarquinius Priscus still remain 
and admirably serve their purpose. The historians further 
tell us that this Etruscan introduced into the kingly style 
a magnificence hitherto unknown in Rome. This was 
especially manifested in his embroidered robes, which 
were the skilful work of Tanaquil the Spinner. Here was 
a queen who might have been taken for the model of the 
virtuous woman depicted in the Book of Proverbs. The 
heart of her husband could safely trust in her. She did 
him good and not evil all the days of her life. ‘‘She 
seeketh wool and flax, and worketh willingly with her 
hands.’’ But Tanaquil was as well qualified to assist 
her husband in his political projects as to array him ina 
manner befitting his station. This is evidenced by her 
behavior at his death, which took place at the hand of 
assassins. We will allow Livy to relate in his own words 
what happened. ‘‘ When those who were around had 
raised up the king in a dying state, the lictors seized on 
the men who were endeavoring to escape. Upon this 


THE WOMAN OF LEGENDARY ROME 25 


followed an uproar and concourse of the people, wonder- 
ing what the matter was. Tanaquil, during the tumult, 
orders the palace to be shut up, thrusts out all who were 
present; at the same time, she sedulously prepares every- 
thing necessary for dressing the wound, as if a hope still 
remained; yet, in case her hopes should disappoint her, 
she projects other means of safety. Sending immediately 
for Servius,—who had married her daughter,—after she 
had showed him her husband almost expiring, holding his 
right hand, she entreats him not to suffer the death of 
his father-in-law to pass unavenged, or his mother-in-law 
to be an object of insult to their enemies. ‘Servius,’ she 
said, ‘if you are a man, the kingdom is yours, not theirs, 
who, by the hands of others, have perpetrated the worst 
of crimes. Exert yourself, and follow the guidance of 
the gods. Now awake in earnest. We, too, though for- 
eigners, have reigned. Consider who you are, not whence 
you have sprung. If your own plans are not matured by 
reason of the suddenness of this event, then follow mine.’ 
When the uproar and violence of the multitude could 
scarcely be withstood, Tanaquil addressed the populace 
from the upper part of the palace through the windows 
facing the new street—for the royal family resided near 
the temple of Jupiter Stator. She bids them be of good 
courage; tells them that the king was stunned by the 
suddenness of the blow; that the weapon had not sunk 
deep into his body; that he was already come to himself 
again; that the wound had been examined, the blood 
having been wiped off; that all the symptoms were favor- 
able; that she hoped they would see him very soon; and 
that, in the meantime, he commanded the people to obey 
the orders of Servius Tullius. That he would administer 
justice, and perform all the functions of the king. Ser- 
vius comes forth with the trabea and the lictors, and, 


26 WOMAN 


seating himself on the king’s throne, decides some cases, 
but with respect to others pretends that he will consult 
the king. Therefore, the death being concealed for sev- 
eral days, though Tarquin had already expired, he, under 
pretence of discharging the duties of another, strengthened 
his own interest. Then, at length, the matter being made 
public, and lamentations being raised in the palace, Ser- 
vius, supported by a strong guard, took possession of the 
kingdom by the consent of the Senate, being the first who 
did so without the orders of the people.’’ 

Of course, however much or little of all this may have 
really taken place, the effect of the account is greatly 
heightened by the brilliant imagination of the historian. 
But we believe that at least there is enough historical 
truth in it to show that the early Romans did not consider 
able statecraft on the part of women an entire impossi- 
bility. In regard to Tanaquil’s after career as queen- 
dowager, the legends are totally and regrettably silent; 
and it is left to us to surmise without data as to how the 
new king held his own with such an extraordinarily clever 
mother-in-law; but, from what has just been related, he 
would seem to have had both the wisdom to appreciate 
her counsels and the ability to put them into effect. 

The Tarquinian dynasty was prolific of remarkable 
women; and in the legendary history they are set over 
against each other in sharp contrast. We have had the 
good queen, now we encounter the bad. Again it is 
the story of a woman who was ambitious, but this time 
of one who possessed no moral sentiment to soften her 
methods, whose respect for that which is honorable in 
woman weighed nothing against her desire for position. 
Expediency being furthered by cruelty, she could easily 
overcome her feminine instincts. She was an exaggerated 
specimen of that type of which Shakespeare has given an 


THE WOMAN OF LEGENDARY ROME 27 


unfading picture in Lady Macbeth. More than this, Tullia 
represented for the Romans the very acme of wickedness. 
All feminine virtue with them culminated in filial obedience 
and marital faithfulness; Tullia murdered her husband and 
plotted against her father, and was accessory to his death. 
The Romans werenot abstractthinkers; and it is more than 
likely that this legend is an accumulation, in one imaginary 
concrete example, of all feminine depravity, rather than 
a veritable account of a historic personage. Yet we have 
no good reason to doubt that there was a vicious Tullia, on 
whose character this ideal of wickedness was erected. 

Servius, the good king, had two daughters, Tullia being 
the younger. These young women were married to the 
two sons of Tarquinius Priscus, Lucius and Aruns; the elder 
daughter being given to the elder son. The consequence 
of this arbitrary choice on the part of the parents was that 
a most contrary assortment was made. A stirring and 
prideful man found himself coupled with a woman of easy, 
good-natured disposition; and a man of contented mind 
and contemplative habits was afflicted with a high-spirited 
and ambitious wife. The haughty Tullia could not endure 
the thought that there was no material in her husband 
either for daring or energetic action. She gave her regard 
to Lucius, who, as she considerately informed Aruns, was 
worthy to be called a man. She went so far as to intimate 
to Lucius that if the gods had been possessed of suffi- 
cient good judgment to have given her the only man who 
could appreciate her abilities she would soon see the 
crown in her own house, instead of in that of her father. 
This inspired the young man; and they both agreed that 
the mistakes of the deities should be rectified. It soon 
conveniently happened that two deaths gave the oppor- 
tunity for a reassortment; and the nuptials of Lucius and 
Tullia were quickly celebrated. 


28 WOMAN 


Having thus far hurried forward the matter, it was not 
in the nature of the woman to wait patiently for death to 
make vacant the throne of the aged Servius. She said that 
she wanted a husband who would rather possess a throne 
than hope for it. She stimulated Lucius’s courage by asking 
why he allowed himself to be called a prince, if he had not 
the spirit to take his own. She suggested that, his grand- 
father having been a merchant, perhaps it would be as 
well for him to return to Tarquinii, the original home of the 
family, and engage in the same peaceful occupation; which 
is evidence that the facile keenness of a woman’s power 
of expression is not a development of modern education. 
Being thus encouraged, Lucius, as probably many another 
statesman has done, considered it more advisable to take 
the chances of public strife than to live in the certainty of 
domestic unrest. The time seeming propitious, he repaired 
with an armed band to the Senate house and seated himself 
on the throne. King Servius appeared, but no one thought 
it worth while to hinder Lucius from throwing the aged ruler 
down the steps of the Senate house; which he manfully did. 

Tullia was the instigator of this coup d’état; and im- 
patient to learn its success, she drove to the Forum, and, 
calling her husband from the Senate chamber, was the 
first to hail him as king. But Lucius commanded her to 
return home; and the tradition runs that as she was going 
thither her chariot wheels passed over the dead body of 
her royal father as it lay in the narrow street. More 
of the story of this Roman personification of filial iniquity 
we are not told, except that, in accordance with the in- 
evitable rule of legendary history, she met the Nemesis 
of her crimes on a later day. The manner of it we shall 
see in the expulsion of her family from Rome. 

The reign of Lucius Tarquin, surnamed Superbus on ac- 
count of his extraordinary pride, was strong and tyrannous; 


THE WOMAN OF LEGENDARY ROME 29 


but its effect was the aggrandizement of Rome and the 
increase of her power in Italy. He is credited with some 
extensive public works, the chief of which was the Capitol. 
This temple he erected upon the hill which had from time 
immemorial been held sacred to Jove; for thereupon the 
people had ofttimes beheld the deity, as Virgil says, ‘‘ with 
his right hand shaking his black shield, and summoning 
the storm clouds to him.’’ For his architectural under- 
takings the Roman king hired skilled Etruscan workmen, 
which indicates that his own subjects were as yet laggards 
in the pursuit of the arts and sciences. Indeed, every- 
thing goes to show that the only infant industries which 
the Romans zealously cultivated at this time were warfare 
and such agriculture as was necessary to supply the wants 
of their abstemious life. For their few artistic needs, they 
depended almost entirely upon the other Italian cities, 
which in these respects were further advanced. 

In the traditional history of the reign of Tarquin Super- 
bus there is included a legend concerning the Sibyl of 
Cumz. Of those mysterious women called Sibyls, ten 
were reputed to have flourished in various parts of the 
ancient world. She of Cumz was said to have lived one 
thousand years; seven hundred of which had expired when 
AEneas came to Italy and profited by her advice. The 
probable fact is that there existed a school, or at any rate 
a succession, of pythonesses at Cuma, and it is borne out 
by the fact that to the Sibyl are given no less than seven 
different names by various ancient authors. These pro- 
phetic women used to write their predictions on leaves, 
which they placed at the entrance of their grotto; and it 
was very necessary to secure these leaves before they 
were dispersed by the wind, since, once scattered, they 
could never again be brought together. It seems, how- 
ever, that the pythonesses at times transmitted their 


iy 
30 WOMAN 


wisdom in a more substantial manner; for the Sibyl who 
came to the palace of Tarquin brought with her nine 
volumes, which she offered for sale at a very high price. 
On the monarch’s refusal to buy them, she burned three 
of the books, and demanded the same amount for the re- 
maining six. Tarquin declined to purchase these, and she 
immediately committed three more to the flames, asking 
the same sum of money for the remainder. This extraor- 
dinary conduct so excited the king’s curiosity that he 
bought the books; and the Sibyl vanished, never again to 
be seen. It is very appropriate that the last of the Sibyls 
shouid disappear just as we begin to find verifiable history 
taking the place of traditional lore. 

What the contents of these books were, or whether the 
king found reason very greatly to regret that he did not 
accept the Sibyl’s first offer of the whole nine, we do 
not know. That they were highly valued by the Roman 
people is shown by the fact that a college of priests was 
instituted to have the care of them; and they remained 
in existence until the time of Sylla, when they were de- 
stroyed in the flames of the Capitol. The Sibylline verses 
now extant are universally deemed to be spurious. 

The name of Tarquin has been placed on the world’s 
roll of dishonor because of the part one of his family 
played in that sad story which describes how the rule of 
the kings of Rome came to an end under a cloud of black- 
ness and blood. The tragedy of Lucretia is one of those 
pictures which are preserved forever on account of their 
simplicity and naturalness. The figures are almost titanic 
in their strength; but they will be recognized as typical 
of humanity in all time. The actions are coarse, because 
they proceed from the fundamental virtues and vices which 
are never separate from the hearts of men and women. 
The great English dramatist has idealized the workings of 


THE WOMAN OF LEGENDARY ROME 31 


thought and conscience in the principal actors; but there 
was really nothing except bare, unadorned humanism in 
every situation. There was the tyranny which always 
accompanies unbridled power; there was the honest sol- 
dier’s outspoken pride in the unrivalled beauty and good- 
ness of his wife at home; there was the brutal animalism 
of the man who heeded no higher instincts; there was the 
wounded heart that saw no hope but to retrieve honor at 
the expense of life; there were ensuing grief and revenge. 
In all this there is nothing subtle, nothing strange, to human 
knowledge. It simply masses together all the general ex- 
periences of the universal man. Yet here is one of the 
world’s most notable dramas; and the picture is interesting, 
because it portrays with strong colors in one scene all the 
great motives and traits which sway and color human life. 

Lucretia was the daughter of a Roman noble, and she 
was the wife of Collatinus, one of the Tarquinian family. 
The Roman army was investing the city of Ardea, the 
capital of the Rutulians; and the young princes had too 
little to occupy their time, as the sequel shows, to keep 
them out of mischief. One day, they were drinking and 
conversing in the tent of Sextus, the king’s son. Soldier 
fashion, being occupied with wine, their talk turned on 
the subject of women. Each man extolled the superior 
charms of his own wife or betrothed. Their conversation 
doubtless did not range beyond lawful wedded mates, or 
those who were such in prospect; for in the Rome of those 
days there existed no class of demi-monde, nor, indeed, 
were there many women whose reputation for chastity 
would be liable to criticism even in the freedom of a sol- 
diers’ camp. Life then was austere, and morality was 
intensive rather than extensive. The gallant contention 
waxed more and more enthusiastic among the comrades, 
until Collatinus said that there needed to be no dispute 


32 WOMAN 


about the matter; that it could be easily seen in a few 
hours how far his Lucretia exceeded all the rest. Where- 
upon he challenged them all to ride to Rome and let the 
matter be decided as each one found his wife occupied 
on his unexpected arrival. To this they agreed, and 
immediately galloped to Rome, which they reached in 
the dusk of the evening. The king’s sons found their 
wives spending their time in luxurious entertainments; 
whether or not they agreed on any one as being superior 
to the others, we are not told. But Collatinus’s home 
was some miles out in the country, so that it was visited 
last of all. Late as it was, they found Lucretia, with 
her maids, spinning wool in the atrium, or middle hall 
of the house. Collatinus and his friends were gladly 
welcomed by the industrious Lucretia, and were pro- 
vided with bountiful entertainment; and they were not 
slow to vote that she had easily won the contest. But 
the beauty of Lucretia’s person and mind had made far 
too deep an impression on Sextus, the son of Tarquin. 
Throughout the journey back to camp he was revolving 
in his mind how he might again make a visit to the house 
at Collatia, in which he did not desire the company of 
its master. 

A few days later, Sextus appeared at Lucretia’s door and 
met a kindly welcome, in which her pure mind mingled 
no misgiving. There were no locks on the inner doors 
of the Roman house; for, as Shakespeare makes poor 
Lucretia tell her story: 


“. . . Inthe dreadful dead of dark midnight, 
With shining falchion in my chamber came 
A creeping creature with a flaming light, 
And softly cried, ‘ Awake, thou Roman dame, 
And entertain my love; else lasting shame 
On thee and thine this night | will inflict, 
If thou my love’s desire do contradict.’ ” 


THE WOMAN OF LEGENDARY ROME 33 


His threat was to murder both the lady and one of her 
male slaves, and to place them so that it would appear 
that he had killed them to avenge the honor of Collatinus. 
Thus we may see how poor Lucretia could truly plead: 


** Mine enemy was strong, my poor self weak, 
And far the weaker with so strong a fear; 
My bloody judge forbad my tongue to speak ; 
No rightful plea might plead for justice there ; 
His scarlet lust came evidence to swear 
That my poor beauty had purloin’d his eyes, 
And when the judge is rob’d, the prisoner dies.” 


The next day, she sent messengers to call her husband 
and her father. They hastened to her at once, the former 
bringing with him Brutus, who was to be the leader in 
liberating Rome from the infamous race of Tarquin. When 
Lucretia had told her story, she made her relatives first 
swear that the criminal should not go unpunished. To 
this they savagely pledged themselves; but they tried to 
console her with the fact that, her mind being pure, she 
had incurred no guilt. Lucretia replied: ‘‘It remains for 
you to see to what is due to Tarquin. As for me, though I 
acquit myself of guilt, from punishment I do not discharge 
myself; nor shall any Roman woman survive her dishonor 
in pleading the example of Lucretia.’”’ Thus saying, she 
drew a knife which she had concealed in her garments, 
and plunged it into her heart. 

Brutus, while they were all overcome with grief, gently 
drew the weapon from the wound; and holding it up, 
dripping as it was with Lucretia’s life blood, he cried: 
‘*By this blood, most pure before the pollution of royal 
villainy, I swear, and I call you, O gods, to witness my 
oath, that I shall pursue Lucius Tarquin the Proud, his 
wicked wife, and all their race, with fire and sword, and 
all other means in my power; nor shall I ever suffer them 


34 WOMAN 


or any other to reign at Rome.’’ In this oath Collatinus 
and the others joined. They carried the dead body of 
Lucretia to Rome, and succeeded in giving the populace 
the last incentive necessary to drive out the already hated 
Tarquins. Thus the misfortunes of noble Lucretia brought 
vengeance upon the wickedness of Tullia; for the historian 
| says that ‘‘she fled from her house, both men and women 
_ cursing her wherever she went and invoking on her the 
- Furies, the avengers of parents.” 

What portion of these stories of the women of legendary 
Rome may be accepted as fact, and what must be rele- 
gated to the realm of fiction, it is not within the capacity 
of research to ascertain. Probably we shall not be far 
wrong if we consider these legends as moralizings founded 
on facts. Tullia represented to the Romans all the vicious- 
ness against which women were warned; in Lucretia, there 
were accumulated all the virtues to which a woman was 
taught to aspire. They were pictorial moral discourses; 
and, just as the moral character of a modern age might 
be discovered from the sermons of the period, so these 
legends represent what was lowest and highest in the 
ethical conceptions of earliest Rome. 


Chapter Lit 
Noble Patrons of the Wepublic 


II 


NOBLE MATRONS OF THE REPUBLIC 


AFTER the revolution, of which the tragedy of Lucretia 
was the traditional cause and which ended forever mo- 
narchical rule in Rome, our subject begins to emerge from 
the haziness of legendary narratives into the clearer light 
of veritable history. It now becomes possible for us to 
catch glimpses of the women of Rome, living and moving 
amid scenes that were real and under conditions which 
undoubtedly prevailed. 

Roman society at the beginning of the Republic was 
most distinctly and rigidly classified. Not only were the 
people divided by the circumstances of birth into separate 
classes, but the law preordained for every person his 
precise station, his duties, his privileges, and his limita- 
tions. The citizen could no more go beyond these than 
he could transfer himself into another order of creation; 
for law, in Rome, was as absolute as it was rigid. Speak- 
ing generally, there were two orders, the patrician and the 
plebeian. A common opinion of the old writers was that 
out of the influx of adventurers who crowded to Rome at 
its founding Romulus chose one hundred Senators, their 
qualification being that they could name their fathers. 
Their children were called patricians. In the third cen- 
tury before Christ, when the plebeians had wrested many 


37 


38 WOMAN 


privileges and offices from the unwilling higher class, 
Publius Decius, himself a plebeian, uses this theory of 
the origin of the patricians to great advantage. Contend- 
ing in debate for the right of his order to serve in the 
priesthood, he said: ‘‘ Have ye never heard that the first- 
treated patricians were not men sent down from heaven, 
but such as could cite their fathers; that is, nothing more 
than freeborn? Well, I can cite my father; he was a 
consul; and my son will be able to cite a grandfather.’’ 
This excessive pride which Roman citizens took in the 
fact that they could trace their paternity through more or 
less generations must not be understood as reflecting, in 
any way, upon the character of the early matrons; it arose 
simply from the fact that they could so surely name their 
ancestry as to eliminate possibility of descent from one of 
the common herd of unenfranchised inhabitants. 

These latter were the plebeians. This class was made 
up of the descendants of the ancient people who of old 
had inhabited the country, ordinary foreigners who were 
attracted to the city, and the children of captives who 
had been given their liberty. At first, the plebeians en- 
joyed no rights whatever. They lived, it is true, under 
the shelter of the walls of the city, but on the outside. 
They possessed no right of suffrage, and were not allowed 
to interfere in any public affair. But they were free. 
They held property and engaged in handicrafts and in 
commerce. It soon came to pass that the increase of their 
number and their importance rendered their repression 
by the nobles more and more difficult. Under King Servius 
the plebeians became citizens; and, as is the case in every 
land, the internal history of Rome contains nothing more 
interesting than the indomitable and successful struggle of 
this lower class to wrest ever larger privileges from the 
tenacious rulers. It was not, however, until B.C. 444 


NOBLE MATRONS OF THE REPUBLIC 39 


that equality of rights had made sufficient progress for 
matrimonial alliances to be countenanced between patri- 
cians and plebeians. By the commencement of the Chris- 
tian era all practical distinction between these two classes 
had vanished. 

In addition to the two principal orders, there was that 
of the clients. These were in reality vassals, who pre- 
ferred dependence on the great and wealthy to living 
independently in a precarious liberty. They were called 
by the names of their patrons and were numbered in the 
latter’s tribe. By enactments of law, the patron was made 
responsible for the support and protection of his clients. 
In return, the patrician could depend upon his clients to 
fight his battles, support his cause, and prove themselves 
loyal retainers of his house in both good fortune and evil. 
The subservience of these clients, and the conscienceless 
zeal with which they furthered the designs, even the most 
wicked, of their masters, are well illustrated in the part 
which Marcus Claudius played in the persecution of Vir- 
ginia by the decemvir Appius. Another dependent class 
was that of the slaves. At first the number of these was 
comparatively small; but as the conquering arms of Rome 
spread over the world her avaricious sway, the captives 
dragged in barbarous triumph to the city grew out of all 
proportion to the population. They enjoyed fewer rights 
and suffered under a régime more inhuman than in any 
other slaveholding nation in history. 

That which distinguished one class from another in 
early Roman society had nothing whatever to do with the 
character of the occupation of the people comprising it. 
The noblest of the early patricians, as well as the com- 
monest) plebeians, tilled the soil with their own hands; 
nor did they disdain to engage in trade, or even in the 
letting of money on usury. Wealth was no more a 


40 WOMAN 


consideration than occupation in determining to which 
order a man or a woman belonged. In course of time, the 
plebeians, despite the patricians’ unneglected privilege of 
practising robbery under due process of law, numbered 
many families of great wealth; but no man could there- 
with purchase entrance to the higher class. It was the 
blood line that marked these distinctions; it was ancestry 
alone that could give the patent of nobility. Nor is it 
surprising that a people who believed in the divine origin 
of some of their tribes should acknowledge superior rights 
as attached to a well-authenticated pedigree. 

In most societies, the advantages of class are more 
markedly displayed in the life of the women than in that 
of the men. This does not appear to have been the case 
in the early times of the Roman Republic. In fact, it is 
difficult to see how difference in class greatly distinguished 
the patrician matron from her plebeian sister. Neither had 
any legal part whatever in State affairs or in any public 
functions, excepting those of a religious nature. The 
duties of each were confined to the home, and no woman 
was relieved from the obligation of personal and diligent 
industry. On the epitaphs of many noble women were 
praises for their chastity and their proficiency in spinning. 
Indeed, the evidence seems to indicate that any other 
qualities than these two, and that of fertility, were depre- 
cated rather than admired by the Romans of this period. 
The only advantages which a patrician woman could pos- 
sess were her natural pride in the privileges of her family 
and what honor was reflected upon her from the positions 
held by her male relatives. The term ‘‘Head of the 
Family ’’ never had so tyrannical a meaning as in most 
ancient Rome. It was a place which a woman could 
not hold. The husband was all in all; no one else was 
recognized by law. Wife, children, clients, and slaves 


NOBLE MATRONS OF THE REPUBLIC 4! 


were alike persons without will of their own. They were 
mancipia, under the hand of the father. He it was who 
answered for them to the State and who judged them. If 
a wife was accused of crime, she was committed to her 
husband for judgment. And this was the law even down 
to the time of Nero, when Pomponia Grecina, charged 
with embracing a foreign superstition, was ‘‘ consigned to 
the adjudication of her husband.’? A man could even 
condemn his wife to death for certain offences, such as 
the violation of her marriage vows, or even for forging 
false keys in order to steal his wine. At her husband’s 
death, the wife could not claim any of his property if he 
had bequeathed it to another, even though it were willed 
to an entire stranger. In this severely disciplined soci- 
ety, the woman never escaped from guardianship. She 
was looked upon as belonging to the family rather than 
to the State. The latter consisted only of men, to whom 
the women were merely necessary accessories. Noone 
thought that a woman possessed any claim or right to 
independence of individuality. She was always under a 
master: her father, when she was a girl; her husband, 
when she was married; and her nearest male relative, if 
she became a widow. If she obtained any share in her 
father’s property or in that of her husband, she could not 
transfer or bequeath it without the consent of her male 
guardian, unless she were a Vestal; nor could she marry 
without the same consent. 

But, however dependent her position may have been, 
whether maid or matron, the Roman woman was always 
treated with reverence. The sfo/a, the characteristic robe 
of the matron, corresponding to the toga of the male citi- 
zen, always ensured for its wearer respect, it being not 
merely an article of attire, but also an insignia which could 
only be retained by strict rectitude of life. 


42 WOMAN 


But it would be contrary to all human experience for 
us to imagine that a true picture of the life of a Roman 
woman can be constructed out of the laws by which it 
was supposed to be regulated. The personal equation is 
a quality which must always be reckoned with. And 
woman, in all ages, has ever shown a greater facility 
than has man in gaining her ends in spite of legal obsta- 
cles. In Rome, as elsewhere, and in the earliest times as 
well as in later ages, when woman’s direct interference 
was vetoed by law, she found ample means by which to 
bring her influence to bear indirectly. Men were as sus- 
ceptible and as subservient to feminine charms as they 
have ever been; and the mother’s training was not with- 
out its powerful effect upon the sons, as we shall see in 
the instances of Coriolanus and the Gracchi. Nor must 
we believe, even though woman’s life was so thoroughly 
disciplined by law, that, in the sternest days of the 
Republic, she was a docile creature entirely without mind 
or will of her own. That she did not always stay where 
she was placed is proved by the story of Cloelia swimming 
the Tiber. This noble maiden, with a number of others, 
having been given as hostages to Porsenna, King of the 
Etruscans, escaped and swam to Rome through the rush- 
ing dangers of the flood. And so far were the Romans 
from regarding this as an act of unpardonable insubordi- 
nation, that they set up her statue with those of Brutus 
and Horatio Cocles, in order that her patriotism might be 
remembered by their women forever. The story abun- 
dantly shows that the women of Rome not only possessed 
spirit and hardihood, but that they were no less willing 
to endanger their lives for the sake of liberty than were 
their husbands and their brothers. Courage, endurance, 
and patriotism were the characteristics of the period; and 
it was toward the cultivation of these virtues that the 


NOBLE MATRONS OF THE REPUBLIC 43 


education of the Roman girls was directed, no less than 
that of the boys. 

In the early years of the Republic, life was barbarously 
austere and contained no intimation of that softness which 
was to characterize the voluptuous ladies of the Empire. It 
is true that in the account of Virginia we read of her being 
accompanied by a nurse to a school situated in the Forum. 
It is hardly possible, however, to avoid the suspicion that 
these details were added by the Greek historians, who 
pictured the situation in accordance with the manners of 
their own country. There is nothing to warrant the infer- 
ence that Roman maidens of the Republic were supposed 
to need the protection of a woman servant as an escort 
through the city. And, whatever the mention of a school 
may indicate, it is certain that there was little to be taught 
beyond the common duties of the household: Science was 
not studied at Rome; art was borrowed from foreigners; 
literature, in any true sense of the word, was not yet born. 

The existence of these rugged Romans is, in almost 
every respect, a contrast with that of the Greeks of the 
time. In the Greek cities the highest pleasures of the mind 
were catered to in the great public festivals and by the 
exhibition of the noblest products of art. When Rome 
took a holiday, it was satisfied with boisterous games in 
which there were no pretence of cultivation and no sign of 
refinement. Art was precluded for the republican Roman 
by his intense utilitarianism. Everything with him was 
calculated to further the practical aims of his life, which 
included nothing beyond the affairs of the State, agri- 
culture, and the cares of the family. Cato says: ‘‘ When 
our fathers desired to praise a man, they called him a good 
farmer; this was the highest of eulogiums. Then men 
lived on their lands, in the rural tribes, which were the 
most honorable of all, and they came to Rome only on 


44 WOMAN 


market days or assembly days. In the villa—a miserable 
cabin made of mud, rafters, and branches—not a day, not 
a moment, was lost.’’ Horace does not draw a more agree- 
able picture of ancient city manners. He tells us that 
‘‘at Rome, for a long time a man knew no other pleasure 
and no other festival than to open his door at dawn, to 
explain the law to his clients, and to lay out his money on 
good security. They learned from their elders, and taught 
beginners, the art of increasing their savings.’’ But when 
it is remembered that Cato was a sour and miserly Puri- 
tan, who adopted austerity as his pose, and that Horace 
was a poet, not untouched with cynicism, who lived in a 
society in which the charm of simple enjoyments was en- 
tirely forgotten, we may consider both pictures, though 
from differing causes, slightly overdrawn. Nevertheless 
they serve to indicate how circumscribed was the life of 
the wives of the early Romans. 

Those strong-minded, intense, practical people were not, 
however, without their entertainments. Music, both vocal 
and instrumental, was cultivated. There were religious 
festivals, in which processions of boys and maidens sang 
pious hymns. We also learn from Cicero that it was the 
custom for the guests at a feast to sing the praises of their 
great men to the sound of the flute. It is easy for us to 
imagine a home scene in which Veturia, the mother of the 
youthful Cnzus Martius, tells over again to the inquiring 
boy those inspiring stories which he has heard chanted 
by his father’s hearth and which are to prepare him to 
emulate heroic deeds at Corioli and earn for himself an 
honorable name. 

But, habitually solemn and grave as were those old 
Romans, they were also much addicted to amusements of 
a coarse and grotesque nature. Even in their religious 
processions they included monstrous mechanical shapes, 


NOBLE MATRONS OF THE REPUBLIC 45 


with formidable teeth and huge jaws which, by their 
opening and closing, frightened the women and children, 
to the great enjoyment of the men. Hideous masks were 
also worn for the same purpose. In fact, so little refine- 
ment characterized the minds of the people of these times, 
that they could find entertainment in only the rudest and 
coarsest of jests. Farces, which were nothing more than 
the absurd antics and personal witticisms of buffoons, had 
been introduced from Atella. But the beginning of Roman 
drama may be dated from B.C. 364, when, on account of 
a pestilence which devastated the city, Etruscan actors 
were imported to institute scenic games in honor of the 
gods. The pestilence ended; and consequently the games, 
being regarded as the efficacious remedy, were retained. 
These games consisted of combined dances and songs, 
which were accompanied by appropriate but not altogether 
proper gestures. Later, there was instituted the floral fes- 
tival, the purpose of which was to induce the goddess of 
spring to grant that all the flowers which decked the fields 
at the time of blossoming should be represented by fruit 
in the harvest. In these games, dancing girls appeared 
upon the stage; and we may draw our own conclusions 
from the fact that in the time of Cato the scene was 
regarded as too frivolous for the eyes of so grave a per- 
sonage. But the most popular of all the early festivals 
was that of Anna Perenna, the goddess of life. In this, 
restraint was abandoned. To drink extravagantly, and 
to listen to a recitation of the mistakes of Mars in taking a 
hideous goddess for the beautiful Minerva, were regarded 
as works of piety. Young girls were required to sing this 
story, which was full of the coarsest allusions. But the 
ancients did not consider the requirements of modesty in 
the same light as we do. They did not esteem that inno- 
cence born of ignorance, in which modern times deem it 


46 WOMAN 


well for a maiden to be reared, as in any way essential to 
feminine goodness. Nothing was then thought lacking, 
so long as the wife maintained her fidelity. The ideal of 
chastity was the matron who, like Cornelia, steadfastly 
refused a second marriage. 

The Romans of the Republic guarded the honor of their 
women with a determination inspired by instincts which 
were, at the same time, both religious and savage. Family 
bonds were sacred; and to desecrate these bonds was not 
only to injure the father of the family, but also to commit 
a crime against the Penates and the Lares, the guardian 
divinities of the community and the hearth. The tragical 
narrative of Virginia and Virginius, though possibly in 
some respects apocryphal, yet serves to indicate the 
temper of the time. Appius desired and determined to 
have the maiden. It is probable there was no attempt 
at seduction; doubtless for two reasons: in the first place, 
women were so fortified with extreme ideas of the worth 
of virtue that success would have been altogether unlikely; 
in the second place, no such design could be meditated apart 
from the consciousness that swift and popular vengeance 
would surely follow. No Roman of that time would dream 
of forcibly abducting a freeborn Roman woman. There 
was no course open for Appius in his evil purposes, except 
to proceed according to law. Where the law protected, 
its safeguarding was absolute; but where the law did not 
apply, the individual had no defence except of his own pro- 
viding. There was no law for the protection of slaves; 
their persons, and indeed their lives, were in the absolute 
power of their masters, and could be disposed of like any 
other property. Women slaves were subject in every way 
to their owners, and chastity was a virtue which only con- 
cerned the wives and daughters of citizens. Men allowed 
themselves more liberty. 


NOBLE MATRONS OF THE REPUBLIC 47 


The sad story recorded by Livy is too lengthy, and too 
well known, to be repeated here in detail. But it isa 
typical Roman scene. Virginia is arrested by Marcus 
Claudius, a dependent of the house of Appius the decem- 
vir. He carries her before the tribunal of Appius on the 
charge that she is the daughter of one of his slaves, and 
therefore herself a slave. The sympathizing people at 
once detect the flimsiness of the story, and Icilius, to 
whom the maiden has been betrothed, boldly accuses 
Appius of his real purpose in the matter. But the majesty 
of the law has been invoked, and the case must be heard; 
only the people irresistibly support Icilius in his opposition 
to the decree of Appius that the girl shall go to the claimant 
until the case is settled. The argument of the decemvir 
was that no woman could legally be without a guardian; 
and as the right of the absent Virginius to that posi- 
tion was in doubt, it therefore went to Marcus. This 
theory, if carried out, would have been sufficient to have 
satisfied his purpose; but the people would not have it 
so. Virginia was allowed to return home, Icilius making 
himself responsible for her appearance on the following 
day. We know the ending of this pitiful story: how 
Virginius, hastily summoned from the camp, appeared 
next morning in the Forum, with his daughter, both clad 
in mourning; how feelingly he harangued the people; 
how he pleaded with the insensible Appius: ‘‘ To Icil- 
ius, and not to you, have I betrothed my daughter, and 
for matrimony, not for shame, have | brought her up.”’ 
Though the tragedy was enacted more than twenty cen- 
turies ago, there is nothing foreign to our minds in the 
sentiments which impelled the fatal knife and were ex- 
pressed in the farewell words: ‘‘ Virginia, in this one 
way, the only one in my power, do I secure you your 
liberty.’’ And thus again the blood of a noble woman 


48 WOMAN 


sacrificed to honor was the signal for the expulsion of 
tyranny. | 

It was not alone in the incitement of the populace to 
measures for her protection that the influence of woman 
was felt in matters of State. There were occasions when 
by her means calamities were averted, as well as times 
when civil strife was for her sake produced. The memory 
of the good service done for the city by Veturia, the 
mother, and Volumnia, the wife of Coriolanus, was never 
allowed to fade. 

In the history of this brave and haughty warrior we 
have a picture of Roman political life. Rough politics 
they were; rock-faced episodes, befitting the character of 
the times, in which men knew nothing of finesse, and 
when appeal was made directly from reason to brute force 
and to the natural feelings of men. Perhaps it would be 
bordering on literary impiety to think that Shakespeare, 
in his Coriolanus, has not given the best interpretation 
possible of this fragment from the old Republic; but it is 
not one of his greatest pieces, because the material 
is lacking in those human qualities which are necessary 
to arouse profound interest. It is a drama with but one 
motive—filial respect. Yet the most is made of this; and 
the great dramatist has succeeded in vivifying the prin- 
cipal characters. In the portrayal of the mother of Corio- 
lanus we see a matron who is worthy of such a son; the 
wife’s part is that of passive resignation to the will of 
stronger spirits. Mrs. Jameson, in her Characteristics of 
Women, says: ‘‘In Volumnia, Shakespeare has given us 
the portrait of a Roman matron, conceived in the true an- 
tique spirit, and finished in every part. Although Corio- 
lanus is the hero of the play, yet much of the interest of 
the action and the final catastrophe turn upon the char- 
acter of his mother, and the power she exercised over his 


NOBLE MATRONS OF THE REPUBLIC 49 


mind, by which, according to the story, ‘she saved Rome 
and lost her son.’ Her lofty patriotism, her patrician 
haughtiness, her maternal pride, her eloquence, and her 
towering spirit, are exhibited with the utmost power of 
effect; yet the truth of female nature is beautifully pre- 
served, and the portrait, with all its vigor, is without 
harshness.’’ We may well believe that Veturia—whom, 
following Plutarch, Shakespeare calls Volumnia—was a 
woman who could say: ‘‘ When yet he was tender-bodied, 
and the only son of my womb . ..._ Iwas pleased to 
let him seek danger where he was like to find fame. To 
a cruel war I sent him, whence he returned, his brows 
bound with oak.’’ And when the wife tremblingly in- 
quires: ‘‘ But had he died in the business, madam—what 
then?’’ it was in the mother to reply: ‘‘ Then, his good 
report should have been my son.’’ This is in accord with 
the Greek historian’s statement that Coriolanus fought 
heroically, not only for glory and the passion of battle, 
but to win the meed of praise from his mother. 

The action in the story of Veturia and her son is entirely 
political. The balance of power between the patricians 
and the plebeians was very narrow, especially when hard- 
ship aroused the latter to make inquiry into the claims 
of the former. A famine was more than sufficient to 
incite the lower order to threaten the privileges of the 
upper class; and Rome was at that time suffering from 
a scarcity of corn. The populace was not entirely con- 
vinced by Menenius’s parable that the whole duty of the 
patrician order consisted in being the belly of the State 
organism. The people clamored; their tribunes saw in 
this an opportunity to gain increased powers; the Senators 
were inclined to be subservient. But the haughty spirit 
of Coriolanus would yield nothing of the ancient privi- 
leges. For his mother’s sake, he sought the consulship; 


50 WOMAN 


nevertheless, he angered the commons, though he could 
not gain the office without their suffrages. The stress 
became so great that his patrician friends could not pre- 
vent his exile. He left Rome, only to return to wreak 
vengeance at the head of a Volscian army. This enemy 
being already a menace to Rome, the defection of the 
great leader to their ranks placed the disordered city at 
their mercy. Then it was that the Romans remembered 
that though women were incapacitated for political action | 
and were unable to fight, yet they were powerful factors 
in the appeal to those feelings of the human heart whence 
flow justice and pity. The arguments of ambassadors and 
the behests of the priests had not availed; the authorities 
were constrained to adventure what might be effected by 
the tears of the women for whom alone, of all that was 
Roman, Coriolanus retained any regard. His mother and 
his wife were implored to make the last appeal. This plan 
had come by inspiration into the mind of Valeria, sister of 
the great Publicola, as she was praying with the other 
matrons in the temple of Jupiter. Veturia and Volumnia, 
leading the two sons of Coriolanus, went forth to the 
Volscian camp. As they drew near, Coriolanus, though 
resolved to remain obdurate, showed himself not lacking 
in filial respect; he advanced to meet them, ordering the 
fasces to be lowered in the presence of his mother. The 
Roman historians clothe Veturia with noble dignity as she 
makes her appeal. ‘‘ Before I receive your embrace, let 
me know if I have come to an enemy or to a son; whether 
Iam in your camp a captive or a mother. Has length of 
life and a hapless old age reserved me for this—to behold 
you an exile and anenemy? . . . Sothen, had I not 
been a mother, Rome would not be besieged; had I not a 
son, 1 might have died free in a free country.’’ The spirit 
of this is truly Roman. Even the women were trained to 


ore. 


NOBLE MATRONS OF THE REPUBLIC 51 


force the claims of blood and the natural affections into a 
place secondary to the duty of loyalty to the State. This 
appeal, joined with the embraces of his wife and the lam- 
entations of the other matrons, prevailed over the anger 
of Coriolanus; and again Rome was saved by the Roman 
women. Asa reward, a monumental temple was erected 
by the men of the city, and dedicated to Female Fortune. 

It was not alone as peacemakers that the Roman matrons 
served the public interests of the city. On more than one 
occasion the treasury was rendered efficient by means of 
their generous contributions. More than once the golden 
ornaments of the wives became auxiliary to the iron arms 
of their husbands, and in one instance they accomplished 
that which the latter could not achieve. When the Gauls 
burned the city, and were only turned from the citadel by 
the payment of one thousand pounds of gold, with the 
sword of Brennus thrown on the Gallic side of the scale 
to insure good weight, the amount could not have been 
raised but for the self-sacrifice of the matrons. In grati- 
tude for this, the Conscript Fathers voted that thence- 
forth funeral orations might be made for women. The 
gold was afterward repaid to the women out of Etrurian 
plunder. Again, when, in accordance with the vow of 
Camillus, a tribute was to be presented to Apollo, the 
matrons brought what they possessed of the precious 
metal, it was especially honored by being made into a 
golden bowl, which was carried to Delphos. On this 
occasion also they were rewarded; for the Senate con- 
ferred on them the privilege of riding to public worship 
and to the games in covered chariots, and on other errands 
in open carriages. The historian introduces this latter 
information with ‘‘they say’’; whether or not, previous 
to this, the Roman ladies had been obliged to walk is left to 
be surmised without further evidence. 


52 WOMAN 


Some idea of what those golden ornaments were may 
be gathered from the account of a voluntary contribution 
which was made in Rome at a later period. Funds were 
required to equip a fleet against Philip of Macedon, the 
ally of Hannibal. Lzevinus the consul, urging upon his 
fellow Senators the duty to set an example of public gen- 
erosity, says: ‘‘Let us bring into the treasury to-morrow 
all our gold, silver, and coined brass, each reserving rings 
for himself, his wife and children, and a bulla for his son; 
and he who has a wife or daughters, an ounce weight of 
gold for each. Let those who have sat in a curule chair 
have the ornaments of a horse, and a pound weight of 
silver, that they may have a salt-cellar, and a dish for the 
service of the gods . . .’’ Notwithstanding the fact 
that, in response to this appeal, the needs of the fleet 
were abundantly provided for, the indication is that at this 
period, about B. C. 280, the decorative tastes of the Roman 
ladies had in no wise acquired that luxuriousness with 
which they afterward became characterized. There was 
no ornament so common as the ring, the place of which, 
in these early times when only one was worn, was the 
third finger of the left hand. It was used for the purpose 
of sealing letters and papers, and long before the end of 
the Republic the custom arose of setting rings with pre- 
cious stones. Indeed, the people of the early Republic 
were not unacquainted with most exquisite work of the 
goldsmiths’ art; but there was still prevalent that con- 
sciousness of the surpassing value of personal excellences 
which could afford to be independent of outward adorn- 
ment, and of which Cornelia’s reference to her sons as 
her jewels was a surviving echo. 

But the times were soon to change. Hitherto we have 
seen the Roman matrons living the simple, diligent, un- 
sophisticated lives of women who were fitting mates for 


NOBLE MATRONS OF THE REPUBLIC 53 


men who held to the plow for support, but dared not let 
drop the sword. Until then, Rome had been nothing but 
a city struggling for existence—sometimes a precarious 
existence. Instances there were when her fortunes waned 
almost to the vanishing point; when the tide of progress 
seemed to hang at the ebb. The god of victory, though 
honored as the tutelary deity of Rome, was frequently 
partial to her Italian neighbors; her walls were entered 
and her houses razed by the barbarian Gauls; and once 
she was at the point of being deserted by her citizens, the 
majority of whom could hardly be restrained by the ideals 
of religion from removing the State and the Capitol to 
Veii. Yet her star of empire persisted and, despite tempo- 
rary eclipses, remained in the ascendant. 

How did those centuries of varying civic fortune affect 
the status of the women? They were, by the necessities 
of their circumstances, trained to endure hardship. The 
temple of Janus was never closed, for warfare was un- 
ceasing; and it was usual for the widow’s wailing death 
dirge to be embittered by the fact that the husband had 
been slain in his strength and prime. Slavery and out- 
rage, the concomitants of barbarous warfare, were always 
included within the possibilities of a Roman matron’s fate. 
Under such circumstances civilization necessarily advanced 
slowly; it is only as life and liberty and leisure are secured 
that existence can acquire the social graces. Hence the 
probability is that, during the first two and a half cen- 
turies of the Republic,—that is, until Rome was fully 
launched upon her career of conquest,—the position and 
the habits and manner of life of the women did not greatly 
change. It is true that there was a continuous internal 
development of the State; but this manifested itself in an 
accentuation of those laws which reveal the hardness of 
the old Roman character, rather than in any tendency 


54 WOMAN 


toward the easement of the individual lives of the citi- 
zens. Never has personal privilege been so completely 
subjugated to State prerogative. The laws, which were 
rigidly—even slavishly—interpreted according to the letter 
and never according to the spirit, considered the individ- 
ual from the standpoint of his value to the State, and rarely 
from that of his own rights. The woman’s value to the 
State was entirely submerged in that of her husband. 
Therefore, we find that it was only with the greatest diffi- 
culty that edicts granting privileges to woman could be 
passed, unless it were in payment for some special act of 
loyalty on her part to the State. Hard and inflexible in 
their ideas of life were those old Romans, practical and 
unsentimental in their relations with each other, narrow 
in their conceptions, proud to arrogance of their State, and 
reverencing only their institutions. 

But in course of time they broke through their insularity 
with the force of their own arms. Victorious contact with 
other States gave them a larger acquaintance with the 
fruits of civilization, and the spoils of conquest afforded 
them the means to enjoy it. Hence, during the latter 
half of the republican period we see life in Rome rapidly 
undergoing a change. As typical of this new state of 
things, as it affected the character, status, and condition 
of women, there is only one woman whom we need to 
select. In Cornelia, the daughter of Scipio Africanus and 
the wife of Sempronius Gracchus, is found the ideal of 
Roman femininity of that day. She was in every way 
worthy of her patrician ancestry, which had produced a 
greater number of eminent men than any other family, 
twenty-one consulships being held by the Cornelii in 
eighty-six years. Cornelia lived in a Rome which we 
can understand and appreciate; we begin to recognize 
social features upon which the imagination can lay hold 


NOBLE MATRONS OF THE REPUBLIC 55 


and from them piece together some idea of the reality. 
Hitherto the data has been too foreign and too meagre for 
any great success in this; but when we read of Cornelia 
providing herself with a country house, riding to public 
worship, listening to the gossip of her friends respecting 
each other’s jewelry, and interesting herself in Greek 
literature, we discover that the main features of a Roman 
matron’s life were not essentially dissimilar from those 
which characterize polite feminine society in our own 
time. Indeed, there is more to evoke our sympathetic 
appreciation in the Rome of B.C. 150 than in the Europe 
of A.D. 1000 or in the Asiatic civilizations of to-day. We 
feel more at home in the patrician villas. than in the medi- 
geval castles; just as we find more that is applicable to 
modern life in the Roman poets than we do in the bards 
of chivalry. In studying the period when the ancient 
civilization of Italy was at its best, we discover habits of 
thought, bits of life, and social customs, which really startle 
us with their similitude to those to which we ourselves are 
accustomed. 

The city, in the time of Cornelia, showed few outward 
signs of the magnificence it was to acquire under the 
emperors. The houses were mostly of brick, though 
domestic architecture had become quite ambitious in its 
character, Cornelia herself having built, as has been said, 
a very expensive villa at Misenum; those of the wealthy 
were filled with costly furniture and precious works of 
art, which the Romans first learned to admire in the coun- 
tries which they subdued; and having acquired a taste 
for beautiful things, they made no scruple of appropriating 
them. Rome had now grown wealthy with the spoils of 
her extensive victories, and, as always comes to pass with 
the advent of riches, there had been brought about a great 
differentiation in the condition of the population. Polybius 


56 WOMAN 


gives us a picture of the extravagant style in which 4Amilia, 
the mother of Cornelia, appeared in public. ‘* When she 
left home to go to the temple,’’ says he, ‘‘ she seated her- 
self in a glittering chariot, herself attired with extreme 
luxury. Before her were carried with solemn ceremony 
the vases of gold and silver required for the sacrifice, and 
a numerous train of slaves and servants accompanied her.”’ 
And this notwithstanding the Oppian law, which limited 
matrons to a half-ounce of gold on their wearing apparel 
and prohibited them from riding in carriages in the city, and 
which had not yet been repealed. As this modish lady 
passed through the streets of Rome with her brilliant reti- 
nue, exciting the envy of other matrons, and bestowing 
gracious recognition upon white-robed, stately patricians, 
she must have beheld as many signs of abject, suffering 
poverty as are prevalent in our own great cities. By this 
time, the plebeian order had been raised to equal legal 
privilege with the patrician, and society had now come 
to be divided into the enormously rich and the extremely 
poor. The former rendered their position secure by means 
of extortion in the provinces; the condition of the latter 
was made hopeless by the fact that all labor was per- 
formed by slaves. A state of things unknown to the old 
times was now prevalent in Rome: men and women were 
idle, willingly or perforce, according to their circumstances. 
The position of women had also changed. They were 
now beginning to make a stand for their rights—a thing 
undreamed of in the old days. The father of the family 
was no longer allowed to execute his arbitrary power 
entirely unquestioned. Livy narrates an incident which 
illustrates this development and bears interestingly upon 
_ the character of Amilia and the history of Cornelia. He re- 
- | lates that ‘‘the Senators, happening to sup one day in the 
: Capitol, rose up together and requested of Africanus, before 


NOBLE MATRONS OF THE REPUBLIC 5? 


the company departed, to betroth his daughter to Grac- 
chus; the contract was accordingly executed in due form, in 
the presence of this assembly. Scipio, on his return home, 
told his wife AEmilia that he had concluded a match for her 
younger daughter. She, feeling her female pride hurt, ex- 
pressed some resentment at not having been consulted in 
the disposal of their common child, adding that, even were 
he giving her to Tiberius Gracchus, her mother ought not 
to be kept in ignorance of his intention; to which Scipio, 
rejoiced that her judgment concurred so entirely with his 
own, replied that she was betrothed to that very man.’’ 
It has been well said that the words which Plautus puts 
into the mouth of Alcmena may be applied to the character 
of Cornelia, who was thus bestowed by her great father 
upon a no less worthy man: ‘‘ My dower is chastity, mod- 
esty, and the fear of the gods; it is love to my kindred; 
it is to be submissive to my husband, kind toward good 
people, helpful to the brave.’’ She also received a dol, 
an accompaniment of marriage which was beginning te 
be highly considered among the matrons of Rome as of 
more practical value than the above-mentioned moral qua!l- 
ities. It consisted of fifty talents of gold. But the time 
had not yet arrived when the riches of virtue and goodness 
were entirely unappreciated; there were still matrons whe 
could enter, with faces neither brazen nor abashed, the 
temple erected to chastity; and upon the tombs of many 
of them might have been truthfully inscribed, as upon 
that of Claudia: Gentle in words, graceful in manner, she 
loved her husband devotedly; she kept her house, she spun 
wool. Among these chaste matrons Cornelia excelled; 
her fame remains as that of the highest type of the pure- 
' principled, noble-minded, cultured Roman matron. She 
lived in entire sympathy with her husband; and we may 
well believe that it was partly owing to her influence that 


58 WOMAN 


the generous Sempronius Gracchus found it in himself to 
command an army enlisted from among the slaves, and 
to emancipate them upon the battlefield as a reward for 
the bravery which his leadership incited. 

Plutarch, in his lives of the sons of Gracchus, repeats 
a story which, though characterized by the superstitions 
of the times, indicates in what estimation Cornelia was 
held by her husband and all who knew her. It relates 
that Gracchus once found in his bed chamber a couple of 
snakes, and that the soothsayers, being consulted concern- 
ing the prodigy, advised that he should neither kill them 
both nor let them both escape; adding that if the male 
serpent were killed, Gracchus would die, and, if the female, 
Cornelia would perish. Therefore, as he extremely loved 
his wife, he thought that it was much more his part, who 
was an old man, to die than it was hers, who as yet was 
but a young woman; so he killed the male serpent and let 
the female escape. Soon after this, he died, leaving his 
wife and the twelve children which she had borne to him. 
‘‘Cornelia, taking upon herself all the care of the house- 
hold and the education of her children, approved herself so 
discreet a matron, so affectionate a mother, and so constant 
and noble-spirited a widow, that Tiberius seemed to all 
men to have done nothing unreasonable in choosing to die 
for such a woman; who, when King Ptolemy himself prof- 
fered her his crown and would have married her, refused 
it, and chose rather to live a widow. In this state she 
continued, and lost all her children, except one daughter, 
who was married to Scipio the Younger, and two sons, 
Tiberius and Caius.’? The daughter, Sempronia, seems 
to have been in every respect unlike her mother. Unat- 
tractive and childless, she neither loved nor was loved by 
her husband; and, indeed, suspicion was cast upon her of 
having brought about his death. 


NOBLE MATRONS OF THE REPUBLIC 59 


Cornelia was well equipped to undertake the education 
of her children. What is told of her indicates a woman 
who was alert to advance with all that was progressive in 
her time. The spirit of literature had but recently attained 
its reincarnation, and that for the first time upon Roman 
soil. It was begotten, as it was again fifteen centu- 
ries later, by the immortal genius of Greek poesy. The 
Romans conquered Greece physically; but Hellenic learn- 
ing subjugated Roman ideas. The Scipios were the ardent 
supporters of Greek culture; and in this, as in all other 
respects, Cornelia took a foremost position among the 
representatives of her gifted family. 

She provided for her children the most erudite of Greek 
masters, and spared no efforts in training their minds in 
the love of all that was graceful and cultured. In the 
justly renowned eloquence of her sons, there was recog- 
nized a gift which they inherited from their mother, as 
was testified by Cicero, who had seen her letters. She 
possessed the ability and also the courage to incite them 
to noble deeds for their country. It was probably not so 
much ambition for herself as for them which caused her 
to reproach her sons with the fact that she was still known 
as the widow of Scipio and not as the Mother of the 
Gracchi. But they lost no time in earning for her, both 
on account of their deeds on the battlefield and by their 
devotion to the civil affairs of the State, the distinction of 
this latter title. 

The Roman Republic had so far degenerated as to sub- 
mit to be governed by an oligarchy consisting of a few 
proud and wealthy families—the worst of all forms of 
government. The Senators were flagrantly using their 
power to accumulate enormous riches and to monopolize 
the land by seizing upon the public domain. Middle-class 
independence was rapidly diminishing, and the growing 


60 WOMAN 


_ masses of the people were oppressed by a poverty from 
which they had no means of freeing themselves. The 
Gracchi sought to relieve these evils by passing laws 
limiting the amount of land which might be held by one 
person, and offsetting the power of the nobility by securing 
the economic independence of the people. The Gracchi 
were reformers; and they each in turn attained to dicta- 
torial power. But though they secured the enactment of 
their measures, they could not put them into effect; and 
in the end,—as is frequently the case with reformers,— 
because they were far-sighted enough to see evil in that 
which the majority of the rulers considered good, there 
was nothing for them but martyrdom. This they suffered 
in turn: Caius taking up the work where Tiberius was 
compelled, by assassination, to relinquish it. 

The parting of Caius from his wife on the morning of 
his own death is a scene from a heroic tragedy. He could 
not be persuaded to arm himself, with the exception of 
a small dagger underneath his toga. As he was going 
out, Licinia stopped him at the threshold, holding him by 
one hand and their little son by the other. She pleaded 
that he would not expose himself to the murderers of his 
brother. ‘‘Had your brother,’’ she urged, ‘‘ fallen before 
Numantia, the enemy would have given back what then 
had remained of Tiberius; but such is my hard fate, that 
I probably must be a suppliant to the floods or the waves, 
that they would somewhere restore to me your relics. 
For since Tiberius was not spared, what trust can we 
place either in the laws or in the gods?’’ But Caius, 
gently withdrawing himself from her embraces, departed; 
and Licinia, falling in a faint, was carried as though dead 
into the house of her brother Crassus. 

Cornelia bore the death of her two sons with her char- 
acteristic nobility of mind. She removed to her seaside 


NOBLE MATRONS OF THE REPUBLIC 6r 


home at Cape Misenum; and there she surrounded herself 
with learned men, and especially delighted in entertaining 
the exponents of Greek literature. She was held in the 
highest esteem by all; and her friends desired no greater 
privilege than to listen to her reminiscences of her father, 
Scipio Africanus. She would proudly add: ‘‘ The grand- 
sons of that great man were my children. They perished 
in the temple and grove sacred to the gods. They have 
the tombs that their virtues merited, for they sacrificed 
their lives to the noblest of aims,—the desire to promote 
the welfare of the people.’’ Such was Cornelia; and 
she was the noblest of the matrons of the Republic. No 
greater thing can be said of her than that she gloried most 
in the reflected honor which came upon her as being the 
mother of the Gracchi; yet she has been deservedly given 
a high place among the great and good women of all time. 


Chapter Titi 
@AHoman’s Part in Religion 


Ws 


( Te oe ih nih as Ps 
Se 


Ve a 
Fd e 


III 


WOMAN’S PART IN RELIGION 


IN these modern times and in Christian countries, we 
are accustomed to seeing religious matters take a more 
prominent place in the life of the women than in that of 
the men. This is because our form of religion concerns 
itself more with the emotions and with those subjects 
which appeal to sentiment than it does with the practical 
affairs of life. Wherever the details or the appliances of 
worship are brought into intimate relation with the com- 
mon occupations in which a people are engaged, it at once 
becomes less peculiarly the province of women. For in- 
stance, where there is union between Church and State, 
according to the extent to which that union exists, and 
owing to the fact that women are to a large extent shut 
out of the management of State affairs, the Church more 
particularly engages the attention of the male portion of 
the population. Also, where, as in Asia, an undertaking 
is supposed to be liable to miscarriage unless entered into 
conformably with the prevailing religious rites, men are less 
likely to be negligent in paying their respects to the gods. 
When, as\ in medieval Europe, every phase of human 
activity was under the supervision of the Church, the arts 
finding in it a large proportion of their subject matter, and 

05 


66 WOMAN 


every transaction needing its sanction, woman’s influence 
in religion was much less predominant than it now is. 
All of which goes to show that there is less of material 
self-seeking in feminine worship than in that of men. 

Never was the intimate relation between the material 
and the spiritual more strongly accentuated than in ancient 
Rome. The acts of the gods and goddesses were a part 
of the lives of the people. Nothing existed or came to 
pass in State, society, or private life without its cause 
being attributed to the supernatural. ‘Ihe consequence 
was that every Roman citizen looked upon the worship of 
his deities as a practical duty, the neglect of which entailed 
practical consequences. At the same time, the possession 
by woman of an important place in religion was assured, 
pot only by her nature, but also by the fact that rever- 
ence for the supernatural was conjoined with every phase 
of life. Worship was no less a private interest than a 
public affair. It entered into everything. Consequently, 
a woman’s religious duties and privileges were exactly 
coextensive with the activities of her life. According to 
Roman theology, the supernatural world was the precise 
counterpart of the natural world. Everything had its 
special deity. There were the powerful gods and god- 
desses who presided over the national interests, over war 
and peace, prosperity and chastisement, counsel and jus- 
tice; there were the divinities who were to be depended 
upon for the natural phenomena, the seasons, the weather, 
germination, and harvest; there were also minor spirits 
upon whose pleasure depended the success of every human 
action, 

According to the Roman conception, nothing took place 
without the assistance of some special divinity whose 
province it was to further that particular form of activity. 
It is said that Varro, at the close of the era of the Republic, 


WOMAN’S PART IN RELIGION 67 


was able to enumerate thirty thousand of these gods and 
goddesses. Roman life, public and private, was never for 
a moment dissociated from religion. The Senate met 
for deliberation in the temple of Jupiter; an important 
part of the general’s duty on the battlefield was to invoke 
the god of war; the infliction of punishment on wrong- 
doers was a sacrifice to offended deity; all public enter- 
tainments were held in honor of the gods; all the ordered 
events in an individual’s life were religious ceremonies; 
for even a family meal was not supposed to be partaken 
of without a portion being set apart for the household 
gods; and always on entering a house reverence was first 
made to the Lares. Hence it necessarily followed that 
the part woman took in religion was commensurate with her 
part in Roman life. It can hardly be said that her posi- 
tion in this respect was a subordinate one. If Mars, the 
god of battle, was the central object of Roman worship, an 
equal devotion was paid to Vesta at the communal hearth 
which symbolized the existence and the well-being of the 
city; and as it was more particularly the province of men 
to invoke the warlike deity, so from among the women, 
who were the home-keepers, were selected the honored 
guardians of the sacred fire. It is also important to ob- 
serve another fact. Though there were priests appointed 
to conduct the ceremonies of public worship, they were 
in no sense intermediaries. Every suppliant addressed 
himself directly to the divinity. He might consider it to 
his advantage to consult the professional men, who were 
skilled in the knowledge of how most persuasively to ap- 
proach the gods; but the act of intercession was each 
person’s own affair, and did not need the intervention of 
a proxy. Therefore, the women were as free to address 
the gods as were the men; and, in fact, in the many 
matters which concerned their sex particularly, and in 


68 WOMAN 


other things in which it seemed fitting, they alone could 
properly do so. 

Bespeaking the favor of a particular deity consisted in 
paying that god more or less extra attention; generally 
it was a very simple process. There is in existence a 
painting, found at Rome, which represents two women 
offering incense to Mars, their husbands probably being 
absent with the army. Each of these matrons has brought 
a portable altar, and into the rising flames, before a small 
figure of the deity, they are dropping the fragrant oblation. 
This sacrifice may have taken place in the open air; prob- 
ably in the Forum. Thus easy was it for women to pay 
their devotions and to invoke protection for those in whose 
welfare they were interested. The practical Romans 
looked upon their relations to the deities as partaking 
somewhat of the nature of commerce; for a certain amount 
of attention they were justified in expecting a correspond- 
ing amount of protection. They even practised what might 
truly be called pious frauds upon the powers whom they 
worshipped. In certain cases, it seemed to them that, 
inasmuch as the gods could not make use of the reality, 
an inexpensive substitute might well take its place. For 
instance, it is a relief to know that the yearly sacrifice 
of men which the Vestals made to Father Tiber from the 
Sublician Bridge had nothing in it more human than repre- 
sentations of men made out of osiers; but when we read 
of the heads of poppies and even onions being presented 
to Jupiter, in order that he might practise his thunder- 
bolts upon them, instead of upon the heads of the citizens, 
the instinct of self-preservation is more apparent than 
is the reasoning faculty which they attributed to the god. 
The Romans studied economy in their religion. Their 
meat offerings constituted the family meal; and a pig 
seemed to them the more proper object to sacrifice to the 


WOMAN’S PART IN RELIGION 69 


gods, in that its flesh was a favorite article of diet with 
themselves. 

In many instances, the Romans committed, as they 
believed, the fortunes of the State to the religious zeal 
of the women. There were several divine protectresses 
whose worship was the exclusive duty of the gentler sex. 
The most important of all was Vesta; to permit her sacred 
flame to expire was one of the greatest of public calamities. 
The fact that these offices held by women were looked 
upon by the Romans as of exceeding importance could but 
reflect a dignity upon womanhood and enhance the respect 
in which the sex was held. In fact, though women held 
no recognized place in civil and State affairs, in religion 
they attained much nearer to equal rights with the men. 
If a man were a priest, his wife was a priestess. So firmly 
did women assert the authority gained through possession 
of religious office, that in the reign of Tiberius it was 
deemed necessary to pass a law that in things sacred the 
priestess of Jupiter should be subject to her husband. 

One of the most interesting features of Roman religion 
was the worship of Vesta and the institution of an order 
of virgins devoted to her service. Nothing more clearly 
illustrates than this the fact that Roman religion was sug- 
gested by racial customs. A study of the earliest history 
of the Aryan race shows that during the migrations of 
the tribes it would naturally fall to the duty of the young 
girls to kindle the camp fire whenever their people stopped 
to rest; and as the primitive method of procuring fire by 
rubbing together dry sticks rendered this no easy matter, 
it was important to preserve the flame when once it was 
produced. Then, too, the camp fire signified much; it 
stood for comfort, sustenance, health, family, and social 
community; it was either the source or the representation 
of the best in primeval life. The bright flame was to the 


70 WOMAN 


tribesmen a beneficent deity, a goddess, of course; for by 
it the work of women was especially furthered—a chastity- 
loving goddess, for what so pure as fire? Hence the idea 
that virgins, such as those who enkindle the useful flame, 
should attend the communal hearth consecrated to the 
honor of the divinity and symbolical of the life of the tribe. 

Numa Pompilius, the second of Rome’s legendary kings, 
is said, as already mentioned, to have instituted the col- 
lege of the Vestal Virgins and to have formulated the rules 
of the life to which they were bound. It seems probable, 
however, that the order was more ancient than even the 
city itself; reaching back, as has been indicated, to the pre- 
historic time when the ancestors of the Latin tribes mi- 
grated from the common Aryan home. At first the Roman 
Vestals were four in number, two for each of the original 
Roman tribes, the Ramnes and the Tities; after the addi- 
tion of the Luceres, the number was increased to six. 
Maidens were made Vestals when between six and ten 
years of age. Whenever a vacancy occurred, the chief 
pontiff chose twenty girls from the patrician order, care 
being taken to select only those who were in perfect 
health, free from the least physical blemish, and showing 
promise of future beauty. Then the casting of lots was 
resorted to, in order that the goddess herself might have 
an opportunity to designate which of the number should 
be selected as her priestess. The maiden to whom fell 
this fortune gave her right hand to the pontiff, who said: 
‘I take thee; thou shalt be priestess of Vesta, and shalt 
perform the sacred rites for the safety of the Roman 
people.’’ Then the girl was conducted to the house of 
the sacred virgins, who cut off her hair and clothed her 
in the white robes of the order. The ceremony in many 
respects corresponded to that of the modern nun in taking 
the veil. The term of consecration was thirty years, thus 


WOMAN’S PART IN RELIGION 71 


giving the votaries ten years in which to learn their duties, 
ten for the practice of them as serving members, and ten 
in which they governed the order and enjoyed the highest 
honors in its gift. After thirty years, the Vestals were at 
liberty to return to their families, or to marry, if they so 
desired; but advantage was rarely taken of this permis- 
sion, they preferring the service of the goddess to whom 
they had vowed their virginity. 

The principal duty of the Vestals was to preserve the fire 
which burned day and night on the altar of their divinity. 
If through rare mischance it became extinguished, it was 
the rule that the sacred flame might only be rekindled 
by rubbing together pieces of wood from a particular tree 
which was resorted to with great and solemn ceremony. 
Later, however, there was adopted the method of concen- 
trating the rays of the sun in a vase of burnished metal. 
The Vestals had other important functions, chief of which 
were the offering of certain sacrifices and the protection of 
records and important documents as well as of the vener- 
able relics of the city. These were preserved in the most 
secret part of the temple; and among them were the fetiches 
which were said to have been brought to Troy by Dar- 
danus, and from Troy to Italy by AEneas. These were 
believed by the Romans to be the guaranties for the ex- 
istence of the Empire. No one but the Chief Vestal was 
permitted to enter the inner sanctuary, where they were 
kept. It is no wonder that, as the functions committed 
to their charge were believed to be fraught with such 
tremendous import to the State, to these priestesses was 
paid a respect as great if not greater than any Roman 
official might claim. They were most carefully guarded 
against insult or offence, anyone offering such being pun- 
ished with death. Whenever a Vestal appeared in public, 
she was preceded by a lictor, before whom everyone 


72 WOMAN 


made way, even the highest officer of the State. The 
fasces were always lowered in her presence. She was 
free from that guardianship by male relatives to which 
all other Roman women were subject. Consequently, a 
Vestal not only could receive legacies, but also enjoyed an 
untrammelled right in the disposal of her property. Ina 
court of justice she could make a deposition without being 
required to take the oath. At all public games and re- 
ligious banquets she had the seat of honor. If a criminal, 
even on the way to execution, met her by accident in the 
street, he was immediately set free. 

On the other hand, if their privileges were great, the 
discipline was severe. If they transgressed the minor 
rules of the order, chastisement was administered by the 
Chief Vestal. If she herself were the offender, or if 
the offence were something of so serious a nature as per- 
mitting the extinction of the sacred fire, the delinquent 
maiden was stripped and then scourged by the chief pontiff 
in the gloom of a darkened room. If a Vestal broke her 
vow of chastity, a horrible death awaited her. Ina place 
called campus sceleratus—the accursed field—an under- 
ground chamber was prepared. This chamber was care- 
fully furnished with a bed, a lamp, a small quantity of 
oil, bread, water, and milk. The victim was placed upon 
a bier and borne with funeral pomp to the place of doom. 
There, in the presence of the multitude, after the priest 
had uttered certain prayers, the Vestal descended into her 
living tomb. The vault was quickly covered, and then 
roofed with brick; the earth was replaced and carefully 
levelled; thus all traces of the death chamber were oblit- 
erated, and the unfortunate victim was left to her fate. 
The witnesses of the execution turned away from the spot 
in the belief that the death of the criminal would avert 
dire evils from themselves and their families. 


WOMAN’S PART IN RELIGION 73 


Though it may be they are not sufficiently well attested 
to preclude the doubt that the innocent were sometimes 
sacrificed, it is interesting to note that there are occasions 
on record when Vesta came to the rescue of her servants. 
_ Dionysius relates how, when Aimilia was about to be 
punished for intrusting the sacred fire to a novice, who let 
it go out, the Vestal, having first prayed to the goddess, 
tore a strip from her robe and cast it upon the ashes, 
when the fire immediately blazed up. Tuccia, who was 
accused of violating her vow of continence, appealed to the 
goddess and said: ‘‘O Vesta, if I have ever approached 
thee with clean hands, grant me a sign to prove my inno- 
cence.’’ Then, as though by inspiration, she took a sieve, 
and going to the Tiber brought it back full of water, thus 
showing that miracles are never lacking in any religion 
when its votaries in after ages have sufficient faith to 
believe in them. This occurrence was made the subject 
of the engraving on the seal of the order, a specimen of 
which has been preserved to the present time. In the 
fourth century before Christ, Postumia was charged with 
a like offence. She succeeded in proving her innocence 
without summoning the gods as witnesses; but the chief 
pontiff, ‘‘by the instruction of the college, commanded 
her to refrain from indiscreet mirth, and to dress with more 
regard to sanctity than elegance.”’ 

The temple of Vesta stood at the east end of the Forum, 
the site being well authenticated by the ruins which re- 
main. Tradition held that the first temple was built by 
Numa; this was destroyed in B.C. 390, when the city 
was burned by the Gauls. It was afterward rebuilt no 
less than four times, always on the exact site, the same 
form and size being adhered to. It was small and circu- 
lar in shape, the domed roof being supported on columns 
which surrounded the inner wall. In the interior was the 


74 WOMAN 


low, round altar where burned continually the sacred fire, 
to the care of which the virgin priestesses were devoted. 
The house in which the Vestals resided stood behind the 
temple, toward the Palatine hill. A few years ago, exca- 
vations were made in the accumulated soil at the foot of 
the hill, and a rich reward was gained in the discovery 
of this house, in a remarkably fine state of preservation. 
It has the large atrium, common to ancient Roman houses, 
and into which the rooms open from all sides. The stairs 
remain, and many of the rooms on the upper floor are still 
intact. That the Vestals lived in luxurious style is attested 
by the richness of the decorations and by the remains of 
bathrooms and hot-air flues. The latter were used for 
heating Roman buildings from a furnace, very much in the 
same manner as the method to which we are accustomed. 
That which interests us far more than anything else about 
this house, however, is the fact that there were found in it 
a large number of statues representing the Vestals them- 
selves. Each statue originally stood upon a pedestal bear- 
ing the name and a dedicatory inscription. Presumably, 
the faces and the figures do not flatter the sacred maidens, 
for they are neither beautiful nor graceful; but they give 
us their names, and, what is perhaps of still greater in- 
terest, they represent the Vestal dress. This consisted 
of a long gown, with a cord around the waist, knotted in 
front. Over this there is a large mantle, so arranged as 
to be drawn over the head like a hood; this falls in great 
folds, with heavy tassels at the corners. Around the 
head is the characteristic diadem-like band of wool which 
always distinguished the Vestals, and was to them what 
the veil is toanun. The feet are covered with boots of 
some soft material. The inscriptions on the pedestals are 
dated, the latest date being that of A.D. 364. This pedes- 
tal is particularly interesting because of the fact that the 


WOMAN’S PART IN RELIGION 75 


Vestal’s name has been defaced, not, however, by an act 
of purposeless vandalism. It was evidently done with 
deliberate intent to obliterate the name; for the initial 
‘‘C”’ has been left, in order that, though she were dis- 
owned, the identity of the offending virgin might not be 
forgotten. She was Claudia, who became a convert to 
the Christian faith. 

The glorification of virginity in the Vestal order must 
have helped to sustain the high moral tone which prevailed 
among the women of early Rome. They constantly be- 
held, in the very centre of the civic life, a group of maidens 
who held a position of surpassing honor as a reward for 
absolute purity of character. Although celibacy was not 
esteemed for its own sake, nor in any instance save that 
of the votaries of Vesta and Ceres, in them it could but 
be effective as an example of virtue. And when to the 
sanctity essential to the office was added the personal 
reputation of those virgins whose fame for holiness was 
augmented by many years of devotion, the influence must 
have been all in favor of good morals. What need, it may 
pertinently be asked, had the Roman women to worship 
at the shrine of the goddess of chastity, when they had 
Occia, who, as Tacitus informs us, presided over the 
Vestals for fifty-seven years with the greatest sanctity? 
That such an example was not more effective than it really 
was must be attributed to the fact that the maids and 
matrons of Rome considered, as is quite consistent with 
human wont in all times, that the supererogatory virtue 
of the Vestals atoned for any deficiencies in their own. It 
may be that this attribution of a vicarious character thereto 
partly accounts for the high valuation set upon Vestal 
virginity. And though a time came when an untarnished 
seputation was contentedly dispensed with elsewhere, it 
was still rigidly demanded in the house of Vesta. 


76 WOMAN 


Yet, despite all this care, the order was not entirely 
immune from the counteracting influence of the times. As 
Roman morals relaxed, it became a less infrequent thing 
for scandals derogatory to the reputation of the Vestals 
to be whispered through the city. Toward the close of 
the Republic, an intrigue with one of these maidens was 
considered by the young nobility as all the more attractive 
on account of the difficulty and danger accompanying it; 
and there is evidence to support the belief that the attempt 
was not always unsuccessful. When Rome became in- 
fected with the turpitude which marked its decadence, the 
college of Vesta did not escape. There were occasions, 
however, down to the latest pagan times, when the priest- 
esses were violently brought to a consciousness of the 
requirements of their office; as when Domitian severely 
punished them for delinquencies which, strange to say, 
had been overlooked by Vespasian and Titus. 

Another cult closely affecting the feminine portion of 
Roman society was the worship of Ceres, one of the 
twelve great deities of the Capitol. She was the goddess 
of corn and the harvest, the mythical daughter of Saturn 
and Vesta, and, like her divine mother, demanded a virgin 
priestess; and the women who were devoted to her service 
enjoyed privileges almost equal to those of the Vestals. 
The Romans paid her great adoration, and her festival, 
lasting eight days, was celebrated by the matrons every 
year during the month of April. They bore lighted 
torches, in commemoration of the myth which describes 
the goddess as lighting torches at the flames of Mount 
Etna, to go in search of Proserpine, her daughter, who 
had been carried off by Pluto. It was required of all the 
matrons who took part in her mysteries that they should 
undergo an initiation; to attend the festival without first 
being initiated was punishable with death. 


WOMAN’S PART IN RELIGION ao 


As the Roman women worshipped Vesta and Ceres, so 
they also paid reverence to Bona Dea, the good goddess, 
who blessed matrimonial unions with fruitfulness. In her 
character, as conceived in the earliest times, was exem- 
plified that chastity which at first was estimated so highly 
and later abandoned so lightly. The myth regarding her 
states that, after her marriage, she was seen by no man 
except her husband. In allusion to this, her festival was 
celebrated at night by the Roman matrons, in the houses 
of the highest officers of the State. On such occasions, 
the man of the house left his abode in the evening, and 
with him was sent forth every male creature. All the 
statues of men that were in the house were carefully 
veiled, and for that night the women were in sole pos- 
session. As to the nature of the ceremonies, we have 
no very definite information; for, though they were not 
always safe from male intrusion, the matrons seem at least 
to have succeeded well in preserving the secret of their 
mysteries; but, as the Roman method of doing honor to 
the gods always included entertainment for the worship- 
pers, we may take it for granted that the festival of 
Bona Dea consisted principally of banqueting, music, and 
games. It is alleged, however, that in later times these 
developed into practices far less innocent. 

Juvenal says: ‘‘The secrets of Bona Dea are well 
known. When the music excites them and they are in- 
flamed with it and the wine, these Mzenads of Priapus 
rush wildly around, and whirl their locks and howl.’’ 
Then he goes on to accuse the participators in these cele- 
brations of the most depraved excesses. But Juvenal’s 
shafts of satire are not so greatly characterized by the 
sharpness of their point as by the force with which they 
are launched; and it is very apparent that, in order to 
make his invectives tell, he never hesitated in resorting 


78 WOMAN 


to exaggeration. While all authorities agree that the 
rites employed in the worship of Bona Dea were accom- 
panied in later times by unlicensed conduct on the part 
of the matrons, history gives no very conclusive proof of 
the veracity of the accusation. There is the intrusion 
of Clodius in the house of Julius Casar on such an occa- 
sion; but to cite this as evidence does not materially sub- 
stantiate the charge, for the only woman who seemed 
willing to consent to his presence was Pompeia, and she 
did not have an opportunity to meet him, as the others 
very promptly drove him from the house. 

The continual degeneration of Roman morals will compel 
us later on to depict a social life in which there is little 
to relieve the monotony of misconduct; hence it is only 
giving the Roman woman the full advantage of every- 
thing that may be said in her favor, if we glance back 
at an incident which happened in the times when virtu- 
ous matrons were still the rule and not the exception. In 
B.C. 295, the Senate, in order to avert evils predicted 
by the omens, decreed that two days should be spent 
in religious devotions. Livy relates that at this time 
a disagreement arose among the matrons who were wor- 
shipping at the Temple of Patrician Chastity. It is illus- 
trative of the fact that it is difficult for women—though 
possibly the criticism should not be confined to their sex— 
to be faultless in essentials without being censorious in 
indifferent matters. We will allow the Roman historian to 
tell the story in his own fashion. ‘‘ Virginia, daughter of 
Aulus, a patrician, but married to Volumnius the consul, a 
plebeian, was excluded by the other matrons from sharing 
in the sacred rites, because she had married out of the 
patrician order. A short altercation ensued, which was 
afterward, through the intemperance of passion incident 
to the sex, kindled into a flame of contention. Virginia 


WOMAN’S PART IN RELIGION 79 


boasted with truth that she had a right to enter the Temple 
of Patrician Chastity, as being of patrician birth and chaste 
in her character, and, besides, the wife of one husband, 
to whom she was betrothed a virgin, and, moreover, she 
had no reason to be dissatisfied either with her husband, 
his exploits, or his honors. To her high-spirited words she 
added importance by an extraordinary act. She enclosed 
with a partition a part of her house, of a size sufficient for 
a small shrine, and there erected an altar. Then, calling 
together the plebeian matrons, and complaining of the in- 
jurious behavior of the patrician ladies, she said: ‘ This 
altar I dedicate to Plebeian Chastity, and exhort you that 
the same degree of emulation which prevails among the 
men of the State on the point of valor may be maintained 
by the women on the point of virtue; and that.you con- 
tribute your best care that this altar may have the credit 
of being attended with a greater degree of sanctity and by 
chaster women than the other, if possible.’ Solemn rites 
were performed at this altar under almost the same regu- 
lations as those of the more ancient one, no person being 
allowed the privilege of taking part in the sacrifices unless 
a woman of approved chastity, and who was the wife of 
one husband.’’ 

Livy goes on to relate that the plebeian shrine did not 
maintain the high standard set by its founder; for it after- 
ward received women who were very far from living up 
to the rules originally laid down. It eventually passed 
out of existence; but that the patrician temple of chastity 
stood as a rebuke to the license of later generations is 
shown by Juvenal when he says: ‘‘ With what sort of 
scorn Tullia snuffs the air when she passes the ancient 
altar of chastity.’’ 

The piety of the Roman women added many to the great 
number of temples erected for the worship of the gods, 


80 WOMAN 


and sacred edifices consecrated to goddesses were numer- 
ous. Sometimes temples were built by the State for the 
especial use of women. After the wrath of Coriolanus 
was appeased by women’s instrumentality, the Temple 
of Female Fortune was presented to them as a reward. 
Another temple was consecrated to Fortuna virilis. The 
function of this goddess at first was to preserve to wives 
the affections of their husbands; but, as times changed, 
the divinity also forfeited her former good character, and 
degenerated into a patroness of the most unprincipled 
coquettes. This temple is one of the ancient edifices 
which have been preserved and turned to modern uses; 
for over a thousand years it has served as a Christian 
church, under the name of Saint Mary of Egypt. It be- 
longs to Armenians of the Roman Catholic faith who 
reside in Rome; and the thought suggests itself that that 
vicissitude is not entirely inappropriate which has brought 
to pass that the temple, where ancient courtesans sought 
the aid of the goddess of chance, is now dedicated to 
Mary, the famous penitent of Egypt. 

It was customary in imperial Rome for temples to be 
erected in honor of the emperors, but the memory of only 
one woman was ever thus celebrated; and in this case the 
devotion of the husband, rather than worthiness on the part 
of his wife, is indicated. This was the temple of Faustina, 
built after her death by the noble Antoninus Pius. If the 
historians of the time can be relied upon in the matter, 
there were no qualities in Faustina save her beauty which 
her imperial husband could justly commemorate. But 
Antoninus thought differently; and, in the history of the 
emperors, there is certainly nothing so affecting as the 
sanctity in which, to the day of his death, he held her 
memory. However faulty Faustina may have been, 
surely she was as worthy of being deified as most of the 


WOMAN’S PART IN RELIGION SI 


emperors who received that honor. This, undoubtedly, 
was the thought of her husband, who was too much of 
a philosopher to believe seriously in any of the Roman 
deities, human or supernatural. He simply adopted the 
popular method in his desire to pay the highest honor 
possible to his wife. This temple, parts of which still 
remain, was also used as a church during the Middle Ages; 
but its chief interest at the present day is found in the 
numerous ancient scribblings that have been discovered 
upon its columns and their bases. 

During the earlier years of the Republic, religion had 
an extremely good effect upon the morals of the people. 
Men dared not invoke the aid of Jove in an unjust cause; 
women could hope for favors at the hands of Vesta, Ceres, 
or Bona Dea only by pledging the rectitude of their con- 
duct. But as the people lived continually in the fear of 
the gods, their religion was more effective as a police 
institution than it was productive as a source of comfort. 
As is inevitable with all religions, the spirit demanded new 
forms before the people became conscious that the old 
were outgrown; and the time came when Roman worship 
became nothing more than tiresome, uninteresting cere- 
monies, which were conducted with incredibly slavish 
care respecting niceties of ritual. This ceased to appeal 
to the heart, and could no longer commend itself convin- 
cingly to the mind. Hence, when foreign deities and new 
forms of worship came to Rome in the triumphal proces- 
sions of the victorious generals, the people were ready 
to receive them with that hope which always welcomes 
untried possibilities. 

A new deity ushered into their well-filled pantheon 
always seemed to the Romans a valuable acquisition. A 
god in Rome was a god for Rome; and to extend cordial 
hospitality to all known divinities was a part of the national 


82 WOMAN 


policy. As the conquering armies carried the fame of 
Rome further in the world, the women at home had an 
ever-widening range of divinities at whose altars they 
might make supplication for the success of the warriors. 
The city at last became as cosmopolitan in its pantheon 
as in its population. If the matrons tired of, or were dis- 
appointed with, time-honored Vesta and Ceres, they might 
turn to the passion-exciting rites of the Syrian Astarte, to 
the weird ceremonies of the Phrygian Cybele, or to the 
more intellectual mysteries of the Egyptian Isis. When 
Veii was captured, the most highly valued spoil was the 
statue of Matuta; and as fortune had forsaken the city, 
the goddess seemed content to depart with it. So at least 
the Romans believed; for they asserted that when the 
deity was asked if she were willing to take up her abode 
at Rome, she assented with a perceptible nod of the head. 
This was considered a piece of good fortune of almost 
equal worth with the gain of the city. The worship of 
Matuta being more peculiarly the function of the women, 
the fact that they outdid the men in their rejoicing is thus 
accounted for, history informing us that they crowded 
the temples to give thanks even before the people were 
ordered to do so by the Senate. Only married women, 
and of these only the freeborn, were allowed in the temple 
of Matuta, except when they carried thither their children 
for the blessing of the goddess. 

But the first marked deterioration of the ancient Roman 
worship through the influence of foreign rites occurred 
with the advent of the Idzan Mother. In B.C. 203, the 
Romans, at the command of the Sybilline oracles, sent to 
Asia Minor for the famous Phrygian deity Cybele, ‘the 
mythical mother of the gods. The Senate was required 
to appoint the most virtuous man in the Republic to the 
duty of receiving the image of the goddess. This honor 


WOMAN’S PART IN RELIGION 83 


was awarded to Publius Scipio; but it was reserved to a 
matron to derive from the incident a more lasting fame 
and a greater present advantage. The women of Rome 
went to Ostia to escort the deity to the city. The legend 
narrates that the vessel bearing the image ran upon a 
shoal at the mouth of the Tiber, and all efforts to get it 
off proved ineffectual. One of the noblest of the matrons 
present was Claudia Quinta. Whether justly or other- 
wise, this lady had been brought under suspicion in regard 
to her conduct. Seeing in the predicament of the goddess 
a grand opportunity, she adventured her reputation upon a 
daring chance for vindication. Making her way to the 
side of the vessel, it being close to the bank, she suppli- 
cated the divine mother to bear witness to her virtue by 
following the persuasion of her chaste hands. Then she 
fastened her girdle to the prow of the boat, and, to the 
wonder of all and to the overthrow of her slanderers, 
the vessel easily yielded to her slight exertion. Asa 
proof of the truth of this, following generations could point 
to the statue of Claudia which the men of the time erected 
at the door of the temple of Cybele. 

Victor Duruy, commenting on the change wrought by 
these new divinities, says, ‘‘they gave a new cast to the 
religious convictions of people to whom a very crude form 
of worship had so long sufficed. Born in the scorching 
East, these deities required savage rites and pious orgies. 
Dramatic spectacles, intoxicating ceremonies, affected vio- 
lently the dull Roman mind, and excited religious frenzy; 
for the first time the Roman felt those transports which, 
according to the character of the doctrine and the condi- 
tion of the mind, produce effects diametrically opposite,— 
absolute purity of life, or the excess of debauchery sanc- 
tified by religious belief.’’ Lucretius bears testimony to 
the truth of this in the vivid picture he draws of the 


84 WOMAN 


extravagancies which characterized the festival of Cybele. 
He describes her attendants in their pageants through the 
streets, dancing with ropes, leaping about to the sound of 
horrid music, while blood streams from their self-inflicted 
wounds. How this affected the women may be gathered 
from Juvenal, who pictures this furious chorus entering a 
house, and the priest threatening the matron with coming 
disasters, which she willingly seeks to avert with costly 
offerings. In another place he refers to the temple of 
‘‘the imported mother of the gods’’ as being frequented 
by the abandoned women, who took part in the orgies 
performed in her honor. .That the women were more 
addicted than the men to the worship of foreign deities is 
perhaps suggested by a passage in Tibullus. The poet 
is away from Rome, and sick. He ‘complains: ‘‘ There is 
no Delia here, who, when she was about to let me go 
from the city, first consulted all the gods . . . Every- 
thing prognosticated my return, yet nothing could hinder 
her from weeping and turning to look after me as | 
went. . . . What does your Isis for me now, Delia? 
What avail me those brazen sistra of hers so often shaken 
by your hand? Now, goddess, succor me; for that man 
may be healed by thee is proved by many a picture in 
thy temples. Let my Delia, dressed in linen, sit before thy 
sacred doors, performing vigils vowed for me; and twice 
a day, with hair unbound, let her recite thy due praises. 
But be it my lot to celebrate my native Penates, and to 
offer monthly incense to my ancient Lar.’’ 

But the most injurious of all the foreign superstitions 
was the Bacchanalian cult, which was introduced into 
Rome during the second century before Christ by a low- 
born Greek from Etruria. He professed himself to be a 
priest in charge of secret nocturnal rites. By appealing 
to the very worst propensities of which human nature is 


WOMAN’S PART IN RELIGION 85 


capable, he soon gathered around him a large following of 
men and women, and these included representatives of the 
noblest families. They engaged in certain religious per- 
formances; but the chief attraction was an unrestrained 
indulgence in wine, feasting, and passion. Naturally, this 
organization also became a hotbed for every sort of crime, 
including murder and conspiracy. Owing to the pledge 
of secrecy extorted from the initiates, the contagion had 
spread to a prodigious extent before it came to the notice 
of the Senate. In the manner of its discovery, we have 
an interesting drama which throws light, not only upon 
the matter itself, but also reveals somewhat of the posi- 
tion of a certain class of Roman women, of which history 
takes little personal account. 

Publius A:butius was a young man of erent rank, 
whose father was dead and whose mother, Duronia, had 
married again. His stepfather, having abused the prop- 
erty of A2butius, and being unwilling to give an account, 
conspired with the unnatural mother so to manage that 
her son would not be in a position to demand an account- 
ing. They agreed that the Bacchanalian rites were the 
only way to effect the ruin of the young man. Accord- 
ingly, his mother informed him that during his sickness 
she had vowed that, if through the kindness of the gods 
he should recover, she would initiate him into the rites of 
the Bacchanalians. She instructed him for ten days how to 
prepare himself, and promised that on the tenth she would 
conduct him to the place of meeting. The youth very 
innocently agreed to this, thinking that it was only the 
due of the gods by whose favor he enjoyed his restored 
health. All would have gone as his mother desired, had 
it not been for the fact that he had formed a strong 
attachment for a courtesan named Hispala Fecenia. This 
young freedwoman was of a character far superior to the 


86 WOMAN 


mode of life into which she had been forced while still a 
slave. Hispala knew more of the world than did A©butius; 
and when he informed her that he was about to be initiated 
into the rites of the Bacchanalians, she declared that it 
would be better for him and also for her to lose their lives 
than that he should do such a thing. She told him that 
when she was a slave she had been taken to those rites 
by her mistress, though since her emancipation she had 
been exceedingly careful to avoid the place. She said that 
she knew it to be the haunt of all kinds of debauchery. 
Before they parted, the young man gave her his solemn 
promise that he would keep clear of those rites. The 
result of his adherence to this was that his mother and 
stepfather drove him from home, and he was goaded into 
telling the whole affair to the Consul Postumius, after first 
taking counsel with his aunt A&butia. 

After certain inquiries, Hispala was brought into the 
presence of the consul, to whom she gave a full account 
of the origin of the mysteries. She said that, at first, the 
rites were performed only by women. No man was ad- 
mitted. At that time, they had three stated days in the 
year on which persons were initiated, but only in the day- 
time. The matrons then used to be appointed priestesses 
in rotation. Paculla Minia, a Campanian, when priestess, 
rearranged the whole system, alleging that she did so by 
the direction of the gods. She introduced men, the first 
being her own sons; she changed the time of celebration 
from day to night; and instead of three days in the year, 
appointed five days in each month for initiation. From 
the time that the rites were made thus common, and the 
licentious freedom of the night was added, there was noth- 
ing wicked, nothing flagitious, that had not been practised 
among them. To think nothing unlawful was the grand 
maxim of their religion. | 


WOMAN’S PART IN RELIGION 87 


After Hispala had made this revelation, Postumius pro- 
ceeded to lay the whole matter before the Senate. A 
vigorous prosecution of the Bacchanalians ensued; and it 
was found that over seven thousand men and women had 
taken the oath of the association, thus proving that the 
rapid growth of a religion gives no assurance of the truth 
of its doctrines or the purity of its principles. Those 
who were found to be most deeply stained by evil prac- 
tices were put to death; many put an end to themselves, 
so as to avoid punishment at the hands of the authori- 
ties; the others were imprisoned. The women who were 
condemned were delivered to their relations, or to those 
under whose guardianship they were, to be punished in 
private; but if there did not appear any proper person of 
the kind to execute the sentence, the punishment was 
nevertheless inflicted, but in private and by a person 
appointed by the court. 

The Senate also passed a vote, on the suggestion of the 
Consul Postumius, that the city quzstors should give to 
both A&butius and Hispala a certain goodly sum of money 
out of the public treasury, as a reward for discovering 
the iniquitous Bacchanalian ceremonies. A¢butius was 
exempted from compulsory service in the army; and to 
Hispala it was granted that she should enjoy the unique 
privileges of disposing in any way she chose of her prop- 
erty; that she should be at liberty to wed a man of honor- 
able birth, and that there should be no disgrace to him 
who should marry her; and that it should be the business 
of the consuls then in office, and of their successors, to 
take care that no injury should ever be offered to her. 

Though the Bacchanalian abuses were thus strenuously 
dealt with by the Roman authorities, this and other like 
parasitical growths which fastened themselves upon the 
religious instincts of the people were not to be shaken off. 


83 WOMAN 


Among the many noxious developments that crept over 
and eventually choked the life out of the sturdy ancient 
stock, we find every vicious substitute for religion known 
to the ante-Christian world. During the decadence of 
Rome, the ancient national religion became disintegrated 
and almost wholly superseded. Many of the empresses 
patronized the foreign orgiastic cults; and, taking the 
many-sided development of Roman religion as a whole, 
the strange spectacle is presented of a remarkable im- 
provement in philosophy accompanying a great deteriora- 
tion in morals. On the one hand, there were those who 
were struggling to a conception of the transcendental 
nature of the deity and the unity of nature; on the other 
hand were those who were doing in the name of the gods 
everything that is considered unworthy of humanity. And 
in all the evil fructification of base conceptions of religion, 
as well as in the knowledge of the higher philosophy, 
woman had her full share. No Roman woman was irre- 
ligious, however great the obliquity of her moral character, 
though sometimes her piety took a form so bizarre that 
the fact outruns imagination. Agrippina the Younger, for 
an example, was created priestess to the deified Claudius, 
whom she had cajoled into marrying her despite the fact 
that he was her uncle. 

It must not be imagined, however, that because Roman 
religion developed these excesses through the infusion of 
Oriental superstitions, it came to be devoid of those up- 
lifting influences which are the province of faith in the 
divine. There were never wanting those who, loving 
the good, the beautiful, and the true, supported their 
aspirations by their belief in the providence of deity; and 
the doctrine of a future life, though held only with much 
vacillation by the philosophers, was continually resorted 
to for comfort by the multitude. How widespread were 


WOMAN’S PART IN RELIGION 89 


these ideas, and how greatly similar to our own were the 
thoughts of those ancient Romans, are matters lost sight 
of by people who need no further reason for dismissing a 
religion from their consideration than the mere fact that it 
is pagan. Plutarch, who defended the dogma of the unity 
of God, of His providence, and of the immortality of the 
soul, wrote to his wife: ‘‘ You know that there are those 
who persuade the multitude that the soul, when once freed 
from the body, suffers no inconvenience nor evil.’’ The 
more positive, though less philosophical, faith of the people 
is illustrated by the words a mother carved upon the sepul- 
chre of her child: ‘‘ We are afflicted by a cruel wound; but 
thou, renewed in thy existence, livest in the Elysian fields. 
The gods order that he who has deserved the light of day 
should return under another form; this is a reward which 
thy goodness has gained thee. Now, in a flowery mead, 
the blessed, marked with the sacred seal, admit thee to the 
flock of Bacchus, where the Naiades, who bear the sacred 
baskets, claim thee as their companion in leading the 
solemn processions by the light of the torches.’’ Except 
for somewhat of the imagery, and the pagan names, this 
woman’s faith might easily be accepted as Christian. 


Chapter IV 
The Passing of Oly Roman Simplicity 


IV 


THE PASSING OF OLD ROMAN SIMPLICITY 


WITH the spread of her foreign conquests, Rome herself 
was subjugated by a rapid revolution in thought and habit. 
From the middle of the second century before Christ, we 
look in vain for the old Republic. Religion, manners, 
morals, occupations, amusements—all have changed. The 
old-time Roman character is passing away, like a tide, 
through the narrowing channel of the ever-decreasing 
number of those who cling to the ancient ideals. Morality 
has started upon that ebb of which the days of Caligula 
and Nero saw the lowest mark to which a civilized people 
ever fell. The Romans could not withstand the tempta- 
tions incidental to conquest. Physically invincible, they 
were not armed against the onset of foreign vices. The 
State grew inordinately wealthy by pillage and exaction; a 
single campaign yielded booty to the value of nine million 
six hundred thousand dollars. Scipio wept when he took 
Carthage; for well he knew that his people were in no 
way prepared to assume such extensive dominion, except 
at the cost of national character. Polybius says that after 
the conquest of Macedon men believed themselves able 
to enjoy in all security the conquest of the world and the 
spoils thereof. 


93 


94 WOMAN 


But wealth was not the sole constituent of the harvest 
gathered in by Roman swords. After the transmarine 
wars, new ideas and Greek learning became common 
among a people who were not adapted, as the Greeks, to 
mere theorizing, but carried out their thoughts, whether 
for good or ill, to the full extent of their powers. The 
consequence was that Rome plunged with deadly earnest- 
ness into newly acquired vices; and the novel teachings of 
Hellenism, instead of elevating the minds of the people, 
served only to create indifference to the ancient divinities. 
‘‘You ask,’’ says Juvenal, ‘‘ whence arise our disorders? 
A humble life in other days preserved the innocence of 
the Latin women. Protracted vigils, hands hardened by 
toil, Hannibal at the gates of Rome, and Roman citizens 
in arms upon her walls, guarded from vice the modest 
dwellings of our fathers. Now we endure the evils of a 
long peace; luxury has fallen upon us, more formidable 
than the sword, and the conquered world has avenged 
itself upon us by the gift of its vices. Since Rome has 
lost her noble poverty, Sybaris and Rhodes, Miletus and 
Tarentum, crowned with roses and scented with perfumes, 
have entered our walls.’’ All the ancient writers agree 
upon the same verdict. The old austerity of life was 
more the result of poverty than of conscience; the simple 
habits of the first centuries of the Republic were cherished 
only so long as there were no means to render them more 
luxurious. Had wealth come to Rome through industry, 
the slower process, which alone develops the power of 
appreciation, would have fitted the people to make good 
use of their better fortune. 

But riches surprised them; and we see ostentatious de- 
pravity quickly taking the place of a pure, though meagre, 
life. To quote again from Polybius, who himself was car- 
ried from Macedon to Rome as a prisoner of war: ‘‘ Most 


THE PASSING OF OLD ROMAN SIMPLICITY 95 


of the Romans live in strange dissipation. The young 
allow themselves to be carried away by the most shameful 
excesses. They are given to shows, to feasts, to luxury 
and disorder of every kind, which it is too evident they 
have learned from the Greeks during the war with Per- 
seus.’’ Cato calls attention to the new manners with 
that bitter scorn which was so strong in the old Roman. 
**See this Roman,’”’ he says; ‘‘he descends from his 
chariot, he pirouettes, he recites buffooneries and jokes 
and vile stories, then sings or declaims Greek verses, and 
then resumes his pirouettes.’’ Imitation of the Greeks was 
zealously adopted in the education of the young. Scipio 
Emilianus says: ‘‘ When I entered one of. the schools to 
which the nobles send their sons, great gods! I found 
there more than five hundred young girls and lads who 
were receiving among actors and infamous persons lessons 
on the lyre, in singing, in posturing; and I saw a child of 
twelve, the son of a candidate for office, executing a dance 
worthy of the most licentious slave.’’ The school here 
referred to must not be understood as the regular institu- 
tion for the imparting of knowledge to Roman children; 
the purpose of that described seems to have been the 
cultivation of what the Romans had come to regard as 
genteel accomplishments. There were other schools for 
instruction in reading, writing, and the usual branches of 
knowledge. These schools also were as free of access to 
girls as to boys, and were always conducted as private 
enterprises rather than by the State. 

The remarkable revolution in thought and manners 
which Hellenism introduced into Rome could not fail pro- 
foundly to affect the existence of woman. That she was 
not far behind man in ‘‘ running to every excess of riot’’ 
is abundantly shown by the historians and other writers 
of the time. In that city which was once remarkable 


96 WOMAN 


for the purity of its morals, houses of ill repute became 
plentiful. These were occupied principally by women who 
had been slaves, but had gained their liberty by the sacri- 
fice of their honor. Houses of this character are the scenes 
of nearly all the comedies of Plautus and Terence, who 
found all their material in Rome, though they located the 
brothels of which they write at Athens and used Greek 
names for their characters. Prostitution, however, was 
not confined to the freedwomen; women of all classes were 
necessarily drawn into the vortex of degeneracy. Not- 
withstanding the fact that in B.C. 141 the Senate made a 
serious effort to resist the increasing looseness of morals, 
going so far as to build a temple to Venus Verticordia, the 
Venus who was supposed to convert women’s hearts to 
virtue, the character of the times devoted the whole sex 
too zealously to Aphrodite for anything noteworthy to 
result from the appeal to her nobler namesake. 

Yet it must not be imagined that all the new impulses 
which came from victorious contact with foreign lands 
had no other than a detrimental effect upon the life of the 
women of Rome. The changes which were taking place 
provided a door to liberty, though to very many it meant 
nothing else but an egress to unrestrained license. In 
any case, the horizon of the Roman woman’s outlook be- 
came greatly extended; her mind expanded as it busied 
itself about an increasing number of subjects, and the 
range of her activities was materially widened. As her 
husband now had other interests besides those of the 
warrior, the citizen, and the agriculturist, in the last of 
which she had alone been allowed a recognized part, a 
larger field was now provided in which she might be his 
companion; henceforward she became less an appendage 
and more an equal. Not, however, because new laws 
were passed in her favor; indeed, the laws were framed 


THE PASSING OF OLD ROMAN SIMPLICITY 97 


rather with the purpose of overcoming the results of those 
circumstances which were effecting her emancipation. 
But it is impossible to overcome a development which is 
the natural result of conditions that are welcomed by the 
people; so, in the new society by which the old order was 
superseded in Italy, women soon learned how, by means 
of legal fictions, they might accomplish ends which were 
still illegal. It is altogether a new woman that we find in 
the last century of the Republic, taking the place of the 
old-time matron. She drives about the city in an equipage 
befitting her wealth and position; she entertains in her 
sumptuous home learned men, with whom she studies the 
Greek authors; she brings such influence to bear on 
the Senate as to cause laws to be passed in her favor; she 
frequently intrigues in matters political; she is not unac- 
customed to divorce and remarriage; and, thus engaged, 
she leaves the spinning of wool, the occupation from time 
immemorial esteemed honorable by matrons, entirely to 
her domestics and her slaves. 

These great changes in the status of woman did not 
take place without a protest. They were the occasion of 
serious contentions in the Senate and of bitter reproaches 
on the part of the lovers of the old-fashioned ways. 
Hellenism being blamed for the mischief, on one occasion 
all Greek philosophers were driven from the city; but that 
was like removing the old seed after the well-matured plant 
had grown to depend upon its own roots. The people of 
Rome were in reality divided into three classes in respect 
to the new order of things. There were the younger men 
and women of the nobility, who welcomed the change, but 
who were intoxicated with the novel pleasures to which 
wealth gave them access, and into which they rushed 
with an utter disregard of propriety. Among them, how- 
ever, were some thoughtful souls,—a class of a better 


98 WOMAN 


character,—who, while they most cordially entertained 
that which Hellenism had to teach them in regard to a 
broader style of life, knew how to winnow the chaff 
from the grain and to feed their minds with the latter. 
These found their best representatives in the Scipio fam- 
ily, all of whom were zealous patrons of Greek learn- 
ing. As we have noticed in a previous chapter, Cornelia, 
the daughter of Scipio Africanus, maintained her house at 
Misenum in a most liberal manner, making it a centre of 
erudition and gathering around her many of the learned 
men of her time. In opposition to both these classes 
were men whose type may be found in all ages, who were 
uncompromising in their conservatism and who could see 
nothing but a presage of national disaster in every change 
from the old methods of life. Their complete idea of what 
a woman should be and do was expressed in the formula: 
‘*She is virtuous; she stays at home; she spins wool.’’ 
This party was ably headed by Cato the Censor, who 
was entirely incapable of understanding why the women 
of his day should desire anything other than that which 
satisfied their feminine antecedents in the poverty-pinched 
times of the early Republic. 

The ultra-conservative ideal was, of course, incapable 
of realization, though there was still in the minds of the 
people a large residuum of sentiment which could be 
employed in its favor; but when the times are ready to 
change, the most powerful appeal is futile. The wiser 
course was taken by the Scipios and the Gracchi, who 
endeavored to steer the new movement in the way of 
betterment and reform. This, if successful, would have 
conserved the ancient principles by adapting them to the 
new conditions, and Rome would have maintained her 
moral greatness while still enhancing her material pres- 
tige; but the momentum given by the haste of the people 


THE PASSING OF OLD ROMAN SIMPLICITY 99 


to acquire what as yet they knew not how to enjoy car- 
ried Roman society past every turn in the right direction. 
Consequently, the mother of the Gracchi was honored as 
a prodigy of female excellence rather than, as she might 
have been, an example of what Roman matrons might be- 
come in the new liberty. Then began the loosening of 
moral restraint, by which Rome fell to a condition of sav- 
agery which was rendered all the more horrible by the 
presence of the material concomitants of civilization. 

It must be remembered, however, that the common 
people of any age or country change their customs more 
slowly than do the more favored classes. Unfortunately, 
the historians have never regarded the lives of people 
of the ordinary populace as being worthy of record; hence, 
we have the names and the doings of only the women of 
the Roman nobility. Were it otherwise, it is probable 
that we should discover that among the matrons of the 
middle class in Italy there were in each generation many 
who maintained, in their quiet lives, the virtue of the 
ancient ideals, until the time came when their life principle 
was reinforced by new teaching, not from Greece, but from 
Galilee. Doubtless also, such as these were more greatly 
encouraged to perseverance by the stern conservatives 
who upheld the past—a model which they at least could 
comprehend—than they were by the high-minded pro- 
gressivists, who led in paths which were as yet untried. 
For this reason, it may be well for us to take a glance 
at the home of Cato, who sturdily antagonized the new 
movement and was the uncompromising opposer of every 
effort to alter the fashion of female life. He was the vale- 
dictorian of ancient Roman simplicity. That the common 
people were in sympathy with him is shown by the fact 
that they erected his statue in the Temple of Health, and, 
instead of recounting his exploits in battle, simply placed 


100 WOMAN 


upon the pedestal an inscription saying that he was Cato 
the Censor, who vigilantly watched over the moral health 
of the State. 

If the house of Cato is to be regarded as an example of 
the ancient manner of life, the suspicion is forced upon us 
that the young Roman women of the time must have been 
thankful that in the great statesman’s home they saw the 
last of the old régime. It was a small house, situated 
on the censor’s lands in the Sabine country, where the 
luxuriousness of the city was unknown. Here his wife 
dwelt, superintending the agricultural and domestic activi- 
ties, while her husband was absent at Rome or in the 
wars. We may be sure that Cato’s wife remained at 
home; this her husband’s antipathy to expense sufficiently 
guarantees. The man who sold his horse, which had car- 
ried him through a severe campaign, because he would 
not charge the State with the cost of conveying it from 
Spain, would doubtless, by reason of the extra expense, 
refrain from giving his wife an invitation to join him in 
his official residence at the metropolis. Moreover, de- 
testing the growing profligacy of the times, he had no 
mind to bring her into contact with that luxury which, as 
censor, he strove so mightily to eradicate. For amuse- 
ment, she was obliged to content herself with the rustic 
festivals, which were more cheerful than exciting, and 
knew nothing of the terrible scenes of the circus and the 
amphitheatre, which the fashionable ladies of the city 
were accustoming themselves to witness with a calmness 
unbecoming to their sex. Her religious devotions were 
performed before the household gods and in the simple 
country shrines, if not with as great satisfaction, certainly . 
with as good effect as they might have been in the splen- 
did temples at Rome. In the conduct of her house were 
observed the strictest rules of frugality. There was no 


THE PASSING OF OLD ROMAN SIMPLICITY 101 


waste; everything which the family could not use was 
sold, if only for a farthing. 

Rectitude, justice, and thrift were the only ideals fol- 
lowed in this home. If Cato’s wife possessed anything of 
the artistic in her temperament, she enjoyed little oppor- 
tunity for its indulgence. Her husband was very far from 
the opinion that the gods and goddesses were more easily 
propitiated by devotions paid before beautiful Grecian 
statuary than when represented by the ill-shaped images 
of Roman creation. In the otherwise undecorated atrium 
were the Penates and the Lares—small and homely fig- 
ures indeed, but endowed with all the accumulated glory 
of the family; for to them was attributed all the success of 
the past, and, if faithfully reverenced, as they were likely 
to be in such a household, they were pledges for the pros- 
perity of the future. Religion must have been of especial 
value in Cato’s family, for its offices were the only form 
of sentiment that was given any freedom of expression; 
all else was under the ban of the most arid practicality. 
There were no old retainers who, by many years of de- 
voted service, had gained an established place in the affec- 
tions of those upon whom they waited; and if the mistress 
had been inclined to cherish such natural regard, it was 
ruthlessly ignored, it being a rule with her husband to 
sell his slaves for anything they would bring, as soon as - 
they became old and infirm. Even the bondwomen at 
whose breasts his children had been nursed had for him 
no other than a monetary value. The signs of affection 
were, in his judgment, the marks of weakness. What a 
barren-hearted puritan he must have been who could expel 
an honored citizen from the Senate for no other reason 
than that he had kissed his own wife in the presence of 
their daughter! And what a husband, who could make his 
boast that he had never caressed his wife—presumably, 


102 WOMAN 


he meant under circumstances where others might witness 
such flagitious conduct—except on the occasion of a severe 
thunderstorm, when he was obliged to resort to that means 
of soothing her! This was evidently, however, an affecta- 
tion; for Cato admitted that it was a pleasure to him when 
Jove thundered. It is apparent that his idea of the good 
old Roman manner of treating a wife did not recognize 
the need of indulgence; and it is not likely that one who 
himself took great pride in wearing the most inexpensive 
quality of clothing, and was, as we shall see, the inveter- 
ate enemy of costliness and changing fashion in woman’s 
attire, ever gratified his wife with a present of wearing 
apparel from the city—unless she, like himself, could rate 
the worth of an article by the cheapness of the bargain. 
Yet it is on record that he was an excellent husband, and 
that he greatly appreciated his wife, whom he married for 
her noble nature, despite the fact that she brought him 
but a small dowry and was not of a family high in posi- 
tion. Doubtless his good qualities were appreciated by 
his wife, especially if she was meek enough in disposi- 
tion to submit willingly to an unceasing surveillance and 
interference in the minutest household matters, even, as 
Plutarch informs us, to the bathing and dressing of the 
infants. 

Such was the family of Cato. It was modelled after 
what he conceived to be the best traditions of Roman 
society before it became corrupted by the pernicious for- 
eign influence. He governed his own household by those 
same stern principles which he sought by precept, exam- 
ple, and authority to enforce upon the Roman people of 
his time. But his home was the last survival of the old 
simplicity. An age had dawned when Roman matrons 
were to become more of a factor in public life and would 
no longer be satisfied to abide in the shadow of domestic 


THE PASSING OF OLD ROMAN SIMPLICITY 103 


routine. In their newly gained liberty they ran to the 
furthest extreme of unreasonableness; but Cato’s ideas 
were too illiberal for nature. 

During the early part of the second century before 
Christ, there was enacted around the Forum a scene such 
as never before had been witnessed or dreamed of in 
Rome. Crowds of matrons were there assembled to 
implore, and to gain by their importunity, the repeal of a 
law which curtailed their expenditure on dress. This was 
the Oppian law, which had been passed a few years pre- 
viously, during the Second Punic War, when money was 
needed for the public service, and the people, not excluding 
the women, had responded with unbounded enthusiasm. 
The law in question decreed that ‘‘No woman should 
possess more than half an ounce of gold, or wear a gar- 
ment of various colors, or ride in a carriage drawn by 
horses, in a city or any town or any place nearer thereto 
than one mile, except on occasion of some public religious 
solemnity.’’ It is assumed by all writers that the half- 
ounce of gold to which the women were restricted put a 
restraint, beyond that limit, on the ornamentation of their 
dress; this is based on the very natural supposition that 
whatever of the precious metal they possessed would 
surely be displayed upon their persons. It is a little 
doubtful whether the decree concerning vehicles was in- 
serted into the measure in order that the horses might be 
placed at the disposal of the army, or whether this was 
a crafty interpolation for the purpose of restricting the 
growing ostentation of the ladies. However, the law had 
been passed without any objection, so far as is known, 
from the women. But patient, uncomplaining submission 
on the part of the Roman women to their male guardians, 
whether collective or individual, was now becoming a thing 
of the past. They could neither make nor repeal laws; 


104 WOMAN 


but they were no longer afraid to bring their influence to 
bear on those in whom lay that power. Champions of 
their cause were found in the two plebeian tribunes, and 
these moved in the Senate for the repeal of the Oppian 
law. Then ensued such a turmoil as if Hannibal were 
again menacing the gates of Rome, except that there was 
no unanimity of mind as to what should be done. This, 
however, only describes the attitude of the men; the 
women were united and, what is more, they were deter- 
mined. They adopted what has become a common method 
in modern times; not that of forwarding to the legislators 
a numerously signed petition,—which is always a stronger 
protest than an effective influence,—but the more power- 
ful one of pertinacious ‘‘lobbying.’’? Crowds of women, 
reinforced by many who came in from the country towns 
and villages, thronged the streets leading to the Forum and 
importuned the men who were to decide the matter in 
which they were concerned. But they found an inexo- 
table opponent in the redoubtable Cato. Livy gives us 
what he conceives the forceful orator to have said on the 
occasion: 

‘‘If, Romans, every individual among us had made it a 
rule to maintain the prerogative and authority of a hus- 
band with respect to his own wife, we should have less 
trouble with the whole sex. But now, our privileges, 
overpowered at home by female contumacy, are, even 
here in the Forum, spurned and trodden under foot; and 
because we are not able to withstand each separately, 
we now dread their collective body. . . . It was not 
without painful emotions of shame that I, just now, made 
my way to the Forum through the midst of a band of 
women. Had 1 not been restrained by respect for the 
modesty and dignity of some individuals among them, 
rather than of the whole number, and been unwilling that 


THE PASSING OF OLD ROMAN SIMPLICITY 105 


they should be seen rebuked by a consul, I should have 
said to them: ‘What sort of practice is this, of running 
into public, besetting the streets, and addressing other 
women’s husbands? Could not each have made the same 
request to her husband at home? Are your blandishments 
more seducing in public than in private, and with other 
women’s husbands than your own? Although, if the 
modesty of matrons confined them within the limits of 
their own rights, it did not become you, even at home, to 
concern yourselves about what laws might be passed or 
repealed here.’ Our ancestors thought it not proper that 
women should perform any, even private, business, with- 
out a director; but that they should ever be under the 
control of parents, brothers, or husbands. We, it seems, 
suffer them now to interfere in the management of State 
affairs, and to introduce themselves into the Forum, into 
general assemblies, and into assemblies of election. For, 
what are they doing at this moment in your streets and 
lanes? What but arguing, some in support of the motion 
of the plebeian tribunes, others for the repeal of the law? 
Will you give the reins to their intractable nature, and 
their uncontrolled passions, and then expect that they 
themselves should set bounds to their lawlessness, when 
you have failed to do so? This is the smallest of the 
injunctions laid on them by usage or the laws, all of which 
women bear with impatience. They long for liberty, or 
rather, to speak the truth, for unbounded freedom in every 
particular. For what will they not attempt, if they now 
come off victorious? 

‘**Recollect all the institutions respecting the sex, by 
which our forefathers restrained their undue freedom, and 
by which they subjected them to their husbands; and yet, 
even with the help of all these restrictions, you can hardly 
keep them within bounds. If, then, you suffer them to 


106 WOMAN 


throw these off one by one, to tear them all asunder, and, at 
last, to set themselves on an equal footing with yourselves, 
can you imagine that they will be any longer tolerable by 
you? The moment that they have arrived at an equality 
with you, they will have become your superiors. But, for- 
sooth, they only object to any new law being made against 
them; they mean not to deprecate justice, but severity. 
Nay, their wish is that a law which you have admitted, 
established by your suffrages, and confirmed by the prac- 
tice and experience of so many years to be beneficial, 
should now be repealed; that is, by abolishing one law 
you should weaken all the rest. No law perfectly suits 
the convenience of every member of the community; the 
only consideration is, whether, upon the whole, it be 
profitable for the greater part. . . . I should like, 
however, to know what this important affair is which has 
induced the matrons thus to run out into public in this 
excited manner, scarcely restraining from pushing into the 
Forum and the assembly of the people. . . . What 
motive, that even common decency will allow to be men- 
tioned, is pretended for this female insurrection? Why, 
say they, that we may shine in gold and purple; that, 
both on festal and common days, we may ride through 
the city in our chariots, triumphing over vanquished and 
abrogated law, after having captured and wrested from 
you your suffrages; and that there may be no bounds to 
our expenses and our luxury. 

‘Often have you heard me complain of the profuse 
expenses of the women—often of those of the men; and 
that not only of men in private stations, but of the magis- 
trates; and that the State was endangered by two oppo- 
site vices—luxury and avarice, those pests which have 
been the ruin of all great empires. These I dread the 
more, as the circumstances of the commonwealth grow 


THE PASSING OF OLD ROMAN SIMPLICITY 107 


daily more prosperous and happy. As the Empire increases, 
as we have now passed over into Greece and Asia, places 
abounding with every kind of temptation that can inflame 
the passions, so much the more do 1 fear that these mat- 
ters will bring us into captivity, rather than we them. 
Believe me, those statues from Syracuse were brought © 
into this city with harmful effect. I already hear too many 
commending and admiring the decorations of Athens and 
Corinth, and ridiculing the earthen images of our Roman 
gods that stand on the fronts of their temples. For my 
part, I prefer these gods—propitious as they are, and I 
hope will continue to be, if we allow them to remain in 
their own mansions. . . . When the dress of all is 
alike, why should any one of you fear lest she should not 
be an object of observation? Of all kinds of shame, the 
worst, surely, is the being ashamed of frugality or of pov- 
erty; but this law relieves you with regard to both; since 
that which you have not it is unlawful for you to possess. 
This equalization, says the rich matron, is the very thing 
that I cannot endure. Why doI not make a figure, dis- 
tinguished with gold and purple? Why is the poverty of 
others concealed under this cover of a law, so that it 
should be thought that, if the law permitted, they would 
have such things as they are not now able to procure? 
Romans, do you wish to excite among your wives an 
emulation of this sort, that the rich should wish to have 
what none other can have; and the poor, lest they be 
despised as such, should extend their expenses beyond 
their means? Be assured that when a woman once begins 
to be ashamed of what she ought not to be ashamed of, 
she will not be ashamed of what she ought. She who 
can will purchase out of her own purse; she who cannot 
will ask her husband. Unhappy is the husband, both 
he who complies with the request, and he who does not; 


108 WOMAN 


for what he will not give himself he will see given by 
another. . . . So soon as the law shall cease to limit 
the expenses of your wife, you yourself will never be able 
to do so. Do not suppose that the matter will hereafter 
be in the same state in which it was before the law was 
made on the subject. It is safer that a wicked man should 
never be accused than that he should be acquitted; and 
luxury, if it had never been meddled with, would be more 
tolerable than it would be when, like a wild beast, irri- 
tated by being chained, it is let loose. My opinion is that 
the Oppian law ought, on no account, to be repealed.’’ 
The women, however, were not without their champion. 
In a debate on some ordinary affair of State, Lucius Vale- 
rius the Tribune would have been an inconsiderable an- 
tagonist for Cato; but, on this occasion, what he lacked in 
oratorical prestige was atoned for in that he had by far 
the more reasonable side of the argument. The fact that 
it was the custom of the Roman historians to compose, 
rather than report, the addresses of their orators renders 
any comparison of these two Senatorial speeches on 
woman’s rights entirely uninteresting. Valerius is made 
to say: ‘Shall our wives alone reap none of the fruits of 
the public peace and tranquillity? Shall we men have the 
use of the purple? Shall our children wear gowns bor- 
dered with the same color, and shall we interdict the use 
of it to women alone? Shall your horse, even, be more 
splendidly caparisoned than your wife is clothed?’’ An 
appeal to the sympathy of the voters is made, as the 
matrons of Rome are represented as ‘‘ seeing those orna- 
ments allowed to the wives of the Latin confederates, of 
which they themselves have been deprived. They will 
behold those riding through the city in their carriages, and 
decorated with gold and purple, while they are obliged to 
follow on foot. . . . This would hurt the feelings even 


% 
THE PASSING OF OLD ROMAN SIMPLICITY 109 


of men, and what do you think must be its effect on weak 
women, whom even trifles can disturb? Neither offices 
of State nor of the priesthood, nor triumphs, nor badges of 
distinction, nor military presents, nor spoils, may fall to 
their share. Elegance of appearance, and ornaments, and 
dress—these are the women’s badges of distinction; in 
these they delight and glory; these our ancestors called 
the women’s world.’’ 

The Oppian law was repealed, and Cato, as if he wished 
to escape the sight of the resulting disasters which he 
anticipated, took the command of a fleet of war vessels 
and sailed away to Spain. How the new liberty affected 
his own wife we are left to surmise; which is not difficult, 
in view of the opening sentences of his address. 

While we are on the subject of the extraordinary fight 
of the women for the repeal of this sumptuary law, it will 
not be inappropriate to take a glance at the female dress 
of the time. There is ample evidence to show that the 
women of ancient Rome were as prone to changing fash- 
ions as are the ladies of our own day; but for several cen- 
turies the various parts of their attire remained very much 
the same, the varying style affecting chiefly the material 
and the quality. The costume of a Roman lady consisted 
of three principal garments,—the under tunic, the sfola, 
and the padla. 

The under tunic was simply a sleeveless chemise, which 
was worn next to the body. Stays, of course, were utterly 
unknown to the ancients, as is shown by their statuary, 
which in these times affords us our only opportunity of 
knowing what a naturally developed female figure is like. 
A bosom band, or, as it was called, a strophium, made of 
leather, was frequently worn above the tunic. 

_ The stola was a white garment with sleeves, which 
covered only the upper part of the arm; it was fastened 


IIo WOMAN 


above the shoulder with a clasp. The s/o/a hung in large 
folds reaching to and covering the feet; around the bottom 
was sewn a broad flounce, called the instifa. Above this 
instita was a purple band, which was the only color, other 
than white, ever used for the sola, except a colored stripe 
or sometimes gold around the neck. Among the Romans, 
the sto/a had a serious significance, beyond its use as an 
article of attire. Only matrons of unsullied reputation 
were permitted to wear it. Women of tarnished char- 
acter were obliged to wear a dark-colored toga, somewhat 
similar to that of the men; we find Horace speaking of the 
togata,—in contradistinction to the matrons, and Tibullus 
writes of the prostitute with her /oga. 

The palla, the out-of-doors garment, was to the women 
what the foga was to the men. This was a large, white, 
and probably square, robe, or mantle,—later on, colors be- 
came fashionable,—and the complex manner of wearing it 
may best be understood by an examination of Roman statu- 
ary. The feet were protected by sandals in the house, 
and shoes for street or public wear; these were greatly 
ornamented. The shoes were of various colors, generally 
white, but frequently green or yellow, and fastened with 
red strings. 

The Roman ladies, like those of modern times, exercised 
great care in the dressing and arranging of their hair; and 
it is not to be denied that they frequently sought, by 
artificial means, to rectify mistakes which they deemed 
nature had made in the selection of color. In the time of 
Juvenal, blonde seems to have had the preference. The 
ordinary style was to carry the hair in smooth braids to 
the back of the head and there fasten it in a knot, as 
usually seen in the statues. In ancient Rome the curling 
iron was no less an intimate and indispensable friend of 
the lady of fashion than it is at present; by this and other 


THE PASSING OF OLD ROMAN SIMPLICITY III 


means, too intricate for explanation by the uninitiated, 
marvellous creations were produced. The satirist says: 
‘‘Into so many tiers she forms her curls, so many stories 
high she builds her head; in front you will look upon an 
Andromache, behind she is a dwarf,—you would imagine 
her another person.’’ History reveals no age in which 
attention to personal adornment was not such an intimate 
characteristic of female nature that women, when unen- 
dowed with remarkable beauty, have been able to refrain 
from unwisely seeking to attract notice by disfiguring 
themselves. 

The Roman women wore ornaments in considerable 
profusion. These consisted principally of necklaces, arm 
bands, finger rings, and ear rings. Generally they were 
of gold, set with precious stones, and the workmanship 
was often of a most exquisite character. A necklace was 
found at Pompeii which was made of a band of plaited 
gold; on each half of the clasp there is a well-executed 
frog, and on the edges where the clasp joined were rubies, 
one of which still remains in its setting; suspended to the 
necklace are seventy-one small, artistically shaped pen- 
dants. Very many specimens of the jewelry worn by the 
women of ancient Rome are still in existence, and they 
indicate fine artistic taste on the part of the wearers, as 
well as great ability in design and execution on that of 
the makers. 

On the dressing table of the fashionable Roman lady 
there appeared a wealth and a variety of cosmetics and 
costly essences in boxes and receptacles delicately formed 
of ivory and precious metals, as well as many other ap- 
pliances for the toilet; so that her advantages in these 
respects were probably in no way inferior to those of her 
fair successors in modern times. An age was drawing 
near which, among many other examples of its monstrous 


Ii2 WOMAN 


luxuriousness, gave birth to efforts to enhance feminine 
attractiveness—efforts which doubtless were as futile as 
they were foolish. 

The time, however, had already come when, notwith- 
standing that their manners were under the eye of such 
a censor as Cato, the women of Rome had entirely and 
forever abandoned their old simplicity of life. In the 
Epidicus of Plautus, written at about the time of the dis- 
turbance over the Oppian law, the matrons were repre- 
sented on the stage as though decked out with valuable 
estates; the cost of a cloak was the price of a farm. 

The new woman had begun to make her appearance in 
Rome. This proverbial phenomenon, so greatly talked 
of in our own time, is by no means a modern discovery. 
She is a principal and an inevitable accompaniment of 
progress in every age and race. She is either a natural 
evolution or a monstrosity, according to the social con- 
ditions of her time. When progress is normal and national 
development healthy, a more enlightened and more sanely 
independent type of woman is continually appearing; but 
so naturally and so quietly does she step into the higher 
position for which she has been enabled to prepare herself 
that her coming is without observation. On the other 
hand, where society is decadent, where abnormal growths 
are favored by the heat of unrestrained passions, and 
where volcanic revolutions in a nation may exalt char- 
acters which belong to the shades of inferiority to posi- 
tions of high conspicuity, there appear feminine wonders 
upon earth; and men’s hearts fail them for fear, as they 
await with consternation the things which are shortly to 
come to pass. Rome, during the latter years of the re- 
publican period, was in a condition favorable to the pro- 
duction of anything bizarre and phenomenal. The new 
wealth, the new learning, the new idleness, and the 


THE PASSING OF OLD ROMAN SIMPLICITY 113 


new vices were fit soil for the production of a new woman 
who would astonish the world for all time with her capacity 
for every excess of moral insanity. 

We do not, however, mean to allege that with the 
greater privileges and increased freedom which entered 
into woman’s life the old virtues and time-honored excel- 
lences entirely disappeared. As Cornelia graced with 
her learning and dignity the Rome of Cato’s day, so did 
Cecilia with her charity and her goodness the Rome of 
Cicero. That orator was undoubtedly prejudiced in her 
favor on account of the great kindness she showed to 
Roscius, his client; but he could not have eulogized this 
matron as he did, had not public opinion concurred with 
him in setting her up as a model for all other women. 
‘« An incomparable woman,’’ her accomplished relations 
had no less honor conferred on them by her character 
than she received by their dignity. Thus an unbroken 
chain of noble-minded matrons may be traced through the 
darkest days of Rome’s decadent morality. Nevertheless, 
though virtue did not cease to be exemplified by the few, 
or to be extolled by the writers, the growing depravity of 
the times made it constantly easier for unprincipled and 
impudent women to find their conduct accepted as the 
ordinary rule of life. 

One chief cause—perhaps it is more correct to call it an 
accompaniment—of the breaking-down of the ancient ideals 
is found in the increasing tendency to deprecate the indis- 
solubleness of marital bonds. Divorce became common 
and easy, so that the student of Roman biography finds it 
increasingly difficult to trace his characters through the 
many involutions of their various matrimonial alliances. 
Pompey married five times. Concerning his first two 
wives, Plutarch makes the following comment: ‘‘Sylla, ad- 
miring the valor and conduct of Pompey, . . . sought 


114 WOMAN 


means to attach him to himself by some personal alliance, 
and his wife Metella joining in his wishes, they persuaded 
Pompey to put away Antistia, and marry AEmilia, the step- 
daughter of Sylla, she being at that very time the wife of 
another man, living with him, and with child by him. 
These were the very tyrannies of marriage, and much 
more agreeable to the times under Sylla than to the 
nature and habits of Pompey, that AEmilia, great with 
child, should be, as it were, ravished from the embraces 
of another for him, and that Antistia should be divorced 
with dishonor and misery by him for whose sake she had 
just before been bereft of her father—for Antistius was 
murdered in the Senate because he was suspected to be 
a favorer of Sylla for Pompey’s sake. Antistia’s mother, 
likewise, after she had seen all these indignities, made 
away with herself, a new calamity to be added to the 
tragic accompaniments of this marriage; and that there 
might be nothing wanting to complete them, AEmilia her- 
self died, almost immediately after entering Pompey’s 
house, in childbed.’’ 

Down to a very late date, a divorce is not met with in 
the annals of Rome; but with what unconcern the undoing 
of the marriage knot came to be regarded is well illus- 
trated in the life of Cato the Younger. Attilia, his first 
wife, was put away for misconduct. Then he married 
Marcia, against whose reputation no blighting wind of 
scandal ever raged. Among the dearest friends of her 
husband was Hortensius, known as a man of good posi- 
tion and excellent character. Evidently, as the sequel 
shows, in all seriousness he sought to persuade Cato that 
the latter’s daughter Portia, who was married to a man to 
whom she had borne two children, might be given to him. 
His argument was that she, as a fair plot ox iand, ought to 
bear fruit; but that it was not right that one man should 


THE PASSING OF OLD ROMAN SIMPLICITY 115 


be provided with a larger family than he could support, 
while another had none. Cato answered that he loved 
Hortensius very well, and much approved of uniting their 
houses; but he could not approve of forcibly taking away 
his daughter from her husband. Then Hortensius was 
bold enough to request that Cato, who, he thought, had 
enough children, should relinquish to him his own wife. 
Cato, seeing that he was in earnest, consented to do 
this, stipulating first that his wife’s father should be 
consulted. No objection being raised in that quarter, a 
marriage was performed between Marcia and Hortensius, 
Cato assisting at the ceremony. In all this there is no 
mention made of Marcia’s consent being given or even 
asked. Some years afterward, Cato, wanting someone 
to keep his house and take care of his daughters, took 
Marcia again, Hortensius being now dead and having left 
her all his estate. Czesar, upon this, reproached Cato with 
covetousness; ‘‘for,’’ he said, ‘‘if he had need of a wife, 
why did he part with her? And if he had not, why did 
he take her again? unless he gave her only as a bait to 
Hortensius, and lent her when she was young, to have 
her again when she was rich.’’ The historian answers 
this by quoting the verse of Euripides: 


‘¢ ¢To speak of mysteries—the chief of these 
Surely were cowardice in Hercules.’ 


For,’’ he says, ‘‘it were much the same thing to reproach 
Hercules for cowardice and to accuse Cato of covetous- 
ness.”’ The explanation of this singular action, the cold 
nature which Cato inherited from his grandfather the 
Censor being taken into consideration, seems to lie in 
the fact that the Roman idea of the necessary guardian- 
ship over women precluded any just conception of their 
tights in the disposal of their own persons. The giving 


116 WOMAN 


and the taking of a woman in marriage was wholly the 
business of her father and her suitor; nothing was required 
of her in the transaction save thankful obedience. Cato. 
was perfectly at liberty to give away his wife, if he so 
desired; this right was guaranteed to him by the simple 
fact that she was his property. 

For the same reason, while chastity on the part of the 
wife was regarded as an absolute essential, the same virtue 
was by no means considered as necessary to the good 
character of the man. The demand for purity in the wife 
was largely based on the idea of proprietary rights which 
the husband had in her person; hence the man could 
divorce the woman for infidelity, but the reverse was not 
conceded. Plautus introduces upon the stage two matrons, 
one of whom complains of her husband, and the other 
consoles and exhorts her thus: ‘‘ Listen to me. Do not 
quarrel with your husband; let him love whom, and let 
him do what, he pleases, since you have everything you 
want at home; keep in mind the fearful sentence: ‘ Begone, 
woman!’ ”’ 

The new era which had dawned in Rome brought a 
certain freedom of circumstances and activity within the 
reach of women; but it did not give them in the marriage 
contract any more liberty than they had of old. The only 
women who were allowed the disposal of their own persons 
were the courtesans. There are many evidences that 
these were not regarded with the disrespect in which their 
class is held in modern times. For an example, Flora, 
who was famous in the last days of the Republic, received 
on account of her exquisite beauty the high honor of having 
her statue dedicated to the temple of Castor and Pollux; 
which may be regarded as a kind of precedent for artists 
who in an Italy of a much later date employed their mis- 
tresses as models for their Madonnas. That this class of 


THE PASSING OF OLD ROMAN SIMPLICITY ¥I7 


women did not hesitate to place a high value upon them- 
selves is proved by the instance of Tertia, to whom Verres 
presented a Sicilian city. Lucretius speaks of the cost 
of their favors, giving us also an interesting picture of the 
gayly dressed wanton: 


‘‘ Amply though endowed, 
His wealth decays, his debts with speed augment, 
The post of duty never fills he more, 
And all his sick’ning reputation dies. 
Meanwhile rich unguents from his mistress laugh, 
Laugh from her feet soft Sicyon’s shoes superb: 
The green-rayed emerald o’er her, dropt in gold, 
Gleams large and numerous; and the sea-blue silk, 
Deep-worn, enclasps her. 

What his sires amassed 
Now flaunts in ribbands, in tiaras flames 
Full o’er her front, and now to robes converts 
Of Chian loose, or Alidonian mould; 
While feasts and festivals of boundless pomp, 
And costliest viands, garlands, odors, wines, 
And scattered roses ceaseless are renewed.”’ 


The Voconian law, which had been enacted in the days 
of the elder Cato, the purpose of which was the preven- 
tion of large accumulations of property in female hands, 
did not prevent women from becoming rich in the manner 
suggested above. A man might give away all his property 
while alive; the law only vetoed excessive legacies. By 
its provisions, no woman was allowed to receive by in- 
heritance property exceeding the value of one hundred 
thousand sesterces. ‘‘Since with the growing power of 
the Empire the riches of private persons were increasing, 
fear was felt lest the minds of women, being rather in- 
clined by nature to luxury and the pursuit of a more 
elegant routine of life, and deriving from unbounded 
wealth incentives to desire, should fall into immoderate 
expenses and luxury, and should subsequently chance to 


118 WOMAN 


depart from the ancient sanctity of manners, so that there 
would be a change of morals no less than of the manner 
of living.’’ These were the reasons for the enactment of 
this measure. It was the kind of law which was dear to 
the heart of the Censor, and it was with great delight that 
he lent his aid to its passage. The people were a little 
doubtful as to its justice; but Cato put an end to all hesi- 
tation by inveighing, with his usual asperity, against the 
tyranny of women and their insufferable insolence when 
opulent. He complained that oftentimes, when they 
brought a rich dowry to their husbands, they kept back a 
large part of the money, and then made loans to their hus- 
bands as though these were mere debtors. The historian 
says that this assertion, enforced with a loud voice and 
good lungs, moved the people to indignation, and they 
voted to pass the law. It was exceedingly characteristic 
of the sentiments of the ancient Romans to be convinced 
by Cato as he strenuously objected to that in women 
which he strongly advocated as a rule for men. 

There are two feminine names which, though belonging 
to women who were contemporaries, well represent dif- 
ferent aspects of the transition from the old Rome of 
uncultured simplicity to the new Rome of immoral refine- 
ment. One is Cornelia, who was the fifth wife of Pompey 
the Great; the other is Clodia, the sister of Clodius the 
Turbulent. One conjoined the new learning with the an- 
cient purity of life, the other united luxurious living with 
an abandoned career; one was a worthy successor of her 
worthy namesake of a former generation, the other was a 
forerunner of the amazing female characters of the most 
depraved days of the Empire. 

Cornelia, like the mother of the Gracchi, belonged to 
the renowned family of the Scipios. Though but a very 
young woman when she was married to Pompey, she had 


THE PASSING OF OLD ROMAN SIMPLICITY 119 


already been the wife of that son of Crassus who was 
slain in Parthia. That her first marriage was a happy 
one may be argued from the fact that when Pompey fell 
into misfortune, and she, for some sentimental reason, 
imagined herself as uniting him to woes which rightly 
belonged to her own fate, she reproached herself for not 
having followed the husband of her youth in his death, as 
she had designed. 

Plutarch informs us that the young lady possessed other 
attractions besides those of youth and beauty. She was 
highly educated, as might be expected in a daughter of 
Metellus Scipio; she was an accomplished performer upon 
the lute; she understood geometry, and was accustomed 
to listen with profit and appreciation to lectures on philos- 
ophy. The historian takes great satisfaction in informing 
us also that, with all this, she had escaped that preten- 
tiousness and unamiability which too frequently spoiled 
the effect of learning in women of unusual acquirements. 

Owing to the terrible civil strife which afflicted Rome 
in the last days of the Republic, and to Pompey’s leading 
share in it, Cornelia’s home was frequently the martial 
camp of her husband. The Empire of Rome had grown 
to be the whole extent of civilization, and Cornelia’s 
learning found ample opportunity, through her travels, 
to become reinforced by that liberality of mind which is 
the result of wide observation. She appears to have 
gained the high regard of her husband’s army; for once, 
after a struggle with Cesar, in which Pompey was for 
the moment victorious, some of the soldiers, of their 
own accord, sailed to Lesbos to carry to her the joyful 
tidings that the war was ended. Her pleasure in this 
news was of short duration; for it was soon to be her 
unhappy lot to accompany her husband to Egypt, in his 
flight from the all-subduing Caesar. There she witnessed 


120 WOMAN 


his assassination by the perfidious hands from which he 
sought protection. 

It is unfortunate that the after career of Cornelia is lost 
sight of by history; but even this silence in a manner 
speaks in her favor; for, while the natural nobility of her 
character could not suffer by the quenching of the strong 
light which shone around Pompey, there is some warrant 
for assurance, in the very fact that her doings were not 
the subject of comment, that her life continued honorable. 

Clodia was a woman of altogether different character. 
She was of the great Claudian gens; and no member of 
that powerful family ever lived so quietly as not to be the 
subject of discourse in Rome. To be one of the Claudii 
meant to be impetuous and dominant, either in good or in 
evil. It was a Vestal of this family who, when her father 
was refused a triumph by the Roman people, placed herself 
in his chariot so as to prevent his being interrupted in his 
progress through the city. Clodia, studied from the point 
of heredity, might have been either good or bad; but she 
would have contravened all precedents in her family had 
she not been extreme in one or the other. As it was, she 
made a fitting sister for that Clodius who stormed in Rome 
during the days of Cicero and kept the city by the ears, 
both on account of his ambitions and his ill-considered 
exploits. 

Clodia was married to Quintus Metellus, to whom Cicero 
affords a most honorable tribute; but she did not allow the 
fact of her marriage to place any restraint upon the licen- 
tiousness of her conduct. Her luxurious house by the 
Tiber was a meeting place, not for men of learning, but 
for all the idle, fashionable, and dissolute young men of 
the city. Her reputation has been pilloried forever by the 
eloquent advocate in his defence of Marcus Ceelius. This 
young man was accused of having attempted to poison 


THE PASSING OF OLD ROMAN SIMPLICITY 121 


Clodia, in order to rid himself of the necessity of paying 
back some gold he was said to have borrowed from her. 
The real truth appears to be that this prosecution was 
mainly instituted by Clodia, who considered herself slighted 
by Ccelius, who had been her lover, but whose ardor was 
waning. The character and manner of life of this irre- 
pressible young Roman matron may be gathered from the 
following arraignment of her in Cicero’s oration. ‘‘If I 
am to proceed in the old-fashioned way and manner of 
pleading, then I must summon up from the Shades below 
one of those bearded old men,—not men with those little 
bits of imperials which she takes such a fancy to, but a 
man with that long, shaggy beard which we see on the 
ancient statues and images,—to reproach the woman, and 
to speak in my stead, lest she by any chance get angry with 
me. Let, then, some one of her own family rise up, and 
above all others that great blind Claudius of old time. For 
he will feel the least grief, inasmuch as he will not see her. 
And, in truth, if he can come forth from the dead, he will 
deal with her thus; he will say: ‘Woman, what have 
you to do with Ccelius? Why have you been so intimate 
with him as to lend him gold, or so much an enemy as to 
fear his poison? Was hea relation? A connection? Was 
he a friend of your husband? Nothing of the sort. What 
was the reason, then, except some folly? Even if the 
images of us, the men of your family, had no influence 
over you, did not even my own daughter, that celebrated 
Claudia Quinta, admonish you to emulate the praise be- 
longing to our house from the glory of its women? Did 
not that Vestal Claudia recur to your mind, who embraced 
her father while celebrating his triumph, and prevented 
his being dragged from his chariot by a hostile tribune of 
the people? Why had the vices of your brother more 
weight with you than the virtues of your father, of your 


122 WOMAN 


grandfather, and others in regular descent ever since my 
own time—virtues exemplified not only in the men, but 
also in the women? Was it for this that I broke the treaty 
which was concluded with Pyrrhus, that you should every 
day make new treaties of most disgraceful love? Was it 
for this I made the Appian Way, that you should travel 
along it escorted by other men besides your husband?’ ’”’ 
This reincarnation of the severe old ancestor ought to 
have been sufficient to strike terror and repentance into 
any woman’s heart. But Cicero was more concerned 
with exonerating Ccelius than he was about reforming 
Clodia, and doubtless he had more hope of convicting her 
of being a follower of undue courses than he had of con- 
verting her from her ways. So he goes on: ‘‘ But if you 
wish me to deal more courteously with you, I| will put 
away that harsh and almost boorish old man; and out of 
these kinsmen of yours here present I will take some one, 
and, before all, I will select your youngest brother, who is 
one of the best-bred men of his class, who is exceedingly 
fond of you, and who, on account of some childish timidity, 
I suppose, and some groundless fears of what may happen 
by night, always, when he was but a little boy, slept 
with you, his eldest sister. Suppose, then, that he speaks 
to you in this way: ‘What are you making this disturb- 
ance about, my sister? Why are you so mad? You saw 
a young man become your neighbor; his fair complexion, 
his height, his countenance, and his eyes made an im- 
pression on you; you wished to see him oftener; you 
were sometimes seen in the same gardens with him, being 
a woman of high rank; you are unable with all your riches 
to detain him, the son of a thrifty and parsimonious father. 
He rejects you, he does not think your presents worth so 
much as you require of him. Try someone else. You 
have gardens on the Tiber, and you carefully made them 


THE PASSING OF OLD ROMAN SIMPLICITY 123 


in that particular spot to which all the youths of the city 
come to bathe. From that spot you may every day pick 
out people to suit you. Why do you annoy this one man 
who scorns you?’ ”’ 

If the orator was just in all that he insinuates against 
her, Clodia, the wealthy, fashionable, and doubtless beauti- 
ful daughter of the great patrician family, was well quali- 
fied to be the high priestess of Aphrodite for the city of 
Rome. 


y 
psn 


hehe. 


Chapter VW 
Koman Marriage 


V 


ROMAN MARRIAGE 


THE position of woman in ancient Rome was always 
one of honor and respect. A Roman matron enjoyed 
many more social privileges and a much greater inde- 
pendence than did the Greek wife. In Athens the women 
were treated as children; and the more respectable their 
character, the more completely were they shut out from 
the social life and the public amusements of the men. In 
Rome, on the contrary, though the wife was subordinate 
to her husband and, as a rule, did not make herself con- 
spicuous in public affairs, she was in no way secluded, 
and was everywhere treated with the highest respect. In 
the home, she was the mistress of the whole household 
economy, supervising the instruction of the children and 
governing the domestic slaves. She stood side by side 
with her husband, sharing in all his dignities, and in all 
matters pertaining to the family wielding an authority 
second only to his. Somewhere between the civilizations 
of Greece and Rome was the boundary line, starting from 
which the status of woman degraded to the Oriental or de- 
veloped into the Occidental type. In the one case, subject 
to the jealous veil, the espionage of eunuch slaves, the de- 
basing, soul-benumbing servilities of the harem; in the 
other, living in the open, the sole mate of one man, and, 

127 


128 WOMAN 


subject to her husband alone, clothed with all authority 
in her home. While Greece looked to the East, and sub- 
jected her women to some of those customs which char- 
acterized the harems of Babylon, Rome was essentially 
Western, and its women enjoyed a goodly portion of dignity 
and honor. Both Greeks and Romans were of the same 
branch of the great Aryan race, and the indications are 
that in the earliest times their women enjoyed equal free- 
dom; but Greece, to a certain extent, fell under the influ- 
ence of Semitic ideas, which saw in the wife a voluptuous 
possession to be jealously guarded. The Roman woman, 
on the other hand, was taught to prize and protect her 
own virtue. 

The comparatively free and respected position of the 
matrons of republican Rome accounts in no small degree 
for the glory and greatness of the State. Where woman 
is treated as a slave, there is no genuine love of liberty. 
Great men can only be born of noble mothers; and nobil- 
ity, feminine as well as masculine, can only flourish in 
freedom. Veturia and Cornelia were mistresses in their 
homes; they knew no restraint in their goings save the 
requirements of honor, they were respected by their hus- 
bands and reverenced by all men; therefore, in ways 
natural to such mothers, they were able to fit their sons 
for deeds worthy of men. 

In the Roman house there were no secluded women’s 
quarters corresponding to those of eastern nations; and 
the Roman women walked abroad, frequented the public 
theatres, and took their places at festive banquets with 
the men. Conelius Nepos, writing on this subject, says: 
‘‘What Roman is ashamed to bring his wife to a feast; 
and does she not occupy the best room in the house, and 
live in the midst of company? But in Greece the case 
is far otherwise; for a wife is neither admitted to a feast, 


ROMAN MARRIAGE 129 


except among relations, nor does she sit anywhere but 
in the innermost apartment of the house, which is called 
the gynzconitis, and into which nobody goes who is not 
connected with her by near relationship.’? The most im- 
portant room in the Roman house was the atrium. Here, 
in the midst of her slaves, the mistress pursued her 
domestic occupations; here was placed the Jectus gentalis 
or adversus, in ancient times the real, afterward the sym- 
bolical, bridal bed, her own proper seat of honor. 

Notwithstanding this independent position of the women, 
Roman marriage, if it be judged by the strict letter of its 
laws and customs, was not very indulgent to the weaker 
sex. But, as we have indicated in preceding chapters, 
the power of the father of the family was much greater in 
theory than it was in reality. Roman wedlock was of two 
kinds: matrimonium justum and non justum; that is, mar- 
riage in due form, and marriage without the perfect cere- 
monies. The first required the right on either side to 
fulfil a lawful marriage according to the ancient rites. In 
the earliest times, equality of condition was demanded, 
patricians and plebeians being allowed to marry only in 
their own class. After B.C. 445, this restriction was re- 
moved; but it was still necessary that both parties to the 
contract should be citizens. But even in cases where 
the ancient rites were not permitted, marriage, if it took 
place, was regarded as none the less lawful and binding. 
Among the Romans, first cousins were not allowed to 
marry, though in the days of the emperors the restrictions 
of consanguinity were not strictly adhered to; Agrippina 
was married to Claudius, who was her uncle. 

A contract of legal marriage was made in three different 
ways, called, respectively, usus, confarreatio, and coemptio. 
Usus, or usage, was when a woman, with the consent of 
her parents or guardians, lived with a man a whole year 


130 WOMAN 


without being absent three consecutive nights. She thus 
became his wife or his property by prescription. If, how- 
ever, she absented herself for three nights at any time 
during the year, the prescription was interrupted; and if 
the parties desired to renew the relation so interrupted, it 
was necessary to begin the required year again, dating from 
the last absence. This very loose bond of matrimony was 
largely adopted in later times, many women taking the pre- 
caution to preserve the opportunity for a permanent release. 
The most solemn form of marriage was the confarreatio. 
This was a distinctly religious ceremony and was held to 
be of a sacramental nature. It was performed by the chief 
pontiff, and in the presence of at least ten witnesses; a set 
form of words was used, and a cake made of salt water 
and flour, called far, was tasted by both parties and then 
offered, together with a sheep, to the deities. By this 
form of marriage a woman was held to have become 
wholly in the power or under the hand of her husband. 
If she committed any fault, he judged and punished her 
according to his own discretion. There also went with 
it unusual privileges. Wedded in this manner, a woman 
became a partner in all her husband’s substance and also 
in the celebration of the sacred household rites. She took 
part with him in the worship of the household Penates, 
because she had an equal share in the treasure which 
they guarded; and in that of the Lares, for her husband’s 
family was now her family and she was a participator in 
all the glory and renown of his ancestors. If he died 
intestate and without children, she inherited his whole 
fortune. If he left offspring, she enjoyed an equal share 
with them. Marriage by confarreatio was always re- 
stricted to the patricians; but in after times it fell almost 
entirely into disuse, so much so that Cicero, in giving the 
forms of marriage, mentions only usus and coemptio. 


ROMAN MARRIAGE 131 


This latter form of marriage was a kind of mutual pur- 
chase, in which the man and the woman gave to each other 
a small piece of money and repeated certain words. The 
bridegroom asked: ‘‘Art thou willing to become the mother 
of my family?’’ The bride answered that she was; and 
then she in turn asked: ‘‘Art thou willing to become the 
father of my family ?’’ to which the man made a like reply. 

The Roman maiden did not enjoy that liberty of choice 
in her wedding which is the prerogative of women among 
us. She was given in marriage by her parents or guard- 
ian to whomsoever they deemed a suitable mate. Even 
the strong-minded and otherwise independent Agrippina the 
Elder implored Tiberius to provide her a husband; and 
because of his failure to do this she was obliged to remain 
a widow. Still, the Roman woman was in no worse posi- 
tion in this respect than were the maidens of the feudal 
age, and, in fact, she enjoyed equal freedom with those of 
some European countries in modern times. At any rate, 
she was not legally forced into a marriage against her will. 
Her declared consent was an essential part of the cere- 
mony. Moreover, there seems to be no good reason for 
doubting that in the Roman world, where social intercourse 
between the sexes was not greatly restricted, matrimonial! 
unions which were the result of mutual affection were not 
infrequent. Though in the ancient pictures which repre- 
sent the marriage ceremony, Juno is shown in the act of 
introducing the bride and groom to each other, we may be 
very sure that there were many times when Venus was 
also present to secure the happy and legal consummation 
of that which her son Cupid had begun. 

Nevertheless, just as in these days, in which there is 
more talk of unfettered sentiment, in Rome money de- 
termined many marriages. Plautus describes a miser 
lamenting that he has a grown daughter on his hands, 


132 WOMAN 


without dowry, whom he cannot portion off to anyone. 
And Horace says that ‘‘ Queen Money, when she gives a 
spouse with an ample dowry, seems to give at the same 
time beauty, nobility, friends, and conjugal fidelity.’’ Ju- 
venal supposes someone to argue that Cesennia, a woman 
of his time, is, by her husband’s showing, the best of wives. 
But he answers: ‘‘ She brought him a thousand sestertia; 
that is the price at which he calls her chaste. It is not 
with Venus’s quiver that he grows thin, or with her torch 
that he burns. It is from that his fires are fed; from her 
dowry it is that the arrows are sent. She has purchased 
her liberty; therefore, even in her husband’s presence 
she may exchange signals, and answer her billets-doux. 
A rich wife, with a covetous husband, has all a widow’s 
privileges.’’ 

In the early days of the Republic, dowries were very 
small. The daughters of the greatest men, says Valerius 
Maximus, often brought nothing in marriage save the glory 
of their fathers or of their families. Scipio, when com- 
manding in Spain, petitioned the Senate to allow him 
to return, so that he might arrange the marriage of his 
daughter. The Senators, in order that the State might 
not be deprived of the services of so able a general, re- 
fused his request, but took upon themselves the duty of 
marrying the maiden. They chose for her a husband, 
and assigned to her from the public treasury a marriage 
portion of eleven thousand ases. This doubtless was at 
the time considered ample, though Seneca, in the later 
days of luxury, declared that it would not suffice to pur- 
chase a mirror for the daughter of a freedman. In those 
same early days, when wealth was reckoned in small 
figures, a woman called Megulla was surnamed Dotata, or 
‘‘The Great Fortune,’’ because she had fifty thousand 
ases, less than eight hundred dollars of our money. But 


ROMAN MARRIAGE 133 


as wealth increased, the marriage portions of the women 
became correspondingly great, until in the time of Martial 
a dowry equivalent to three-quarters of a million dollars 
was not uncommon. The wife’s dowry was, of course, 
at the disposal of her husband; but his right to it ceased 
in case of the dissolution of the marriage, except when the 
wife sought divorce without just cause, in which case 
the husband was allowed to keep a sixth of the dowry for 
each of their children, to the amount of three-sixths. If, 
however, the wife died before her husband, and left no chil- 
dren, her dowry reverted to her father, so that he might 
not suffer the double affliction of losing both his money 
and his daughter. Sometimes the wife reserved to herself 
a part of the marriage portion, in order that she might 
have something to spend for which she had not to give 
account to her husband; occasionally also, there went with 
the bride a slave, who, it was stipulated, was not to be 
subject to the husband’s disposal or command. The wife 
of Apuleius, who married him when she was a widow and 
possessed four million sesterces in her own right, trans- 
ferred only three hundred thousand in the marriage settle- 
ment. This power of the wife to own personal property 
of a non-distrainable character afforded the Roman an 
opportunity, such as is frequently seized to-day by men 
on the verge of bankruptcy, to secure his assets by making 
them over to his wife. 

It often happened, of course, that a maiden’s family, 
though honorable, was not in such circumstances that she 
could base her hopes of marriage upon the tempting bait 
of a rich dowry. Then her personal qualities were her 
sole reliance. In the later days of the Republic, Roman 
parents seem to have been fully appreciative of the de- 
sirability of a liberal education for their daughters. Even 
in the most wealthy families, before the days when Roman 


134 WOMAN 


society entered upon its decadence, the girls were zealously 
instructed in those domestic duties which would prepare 
them .to become good housewives. In addition to this, 
they were thoroughly trained in both Greek and Latin 
literature, especial attention being given to the poets. 
Their accomplishments also included music, singing, and 
dancing; for these, says Statius, helped to procure a hus- 
band. But we may be certain that in those times, as in 
the present, the natural anxiety of many a mother caused 
her to resort to other arts besides that of music, in order 
to provide a good match for her none too much sought after 
daughter. If the comedies are to be credited, that which 
the father’s wealth could not accomplish it was hoped 
might be attained through the mother’s wiles. ‘‘Look at 
the mothers,’’ says one of Terence’s characters; ‘‘they are 
carefully occupied in lowering their daughters’ shoulders, 
in drawing in their waists to make them look slender. Is 
there one of them who is inclined to be stout? The mother 
immediately exclaims, ‘she is an athlete,’ and diminishes 
the girl’s meals until, in spite of constitutional tendencies, 
she has rendered her daughter as thin as a spindle.’’ 

A girl, by means of either her real or artificial qualities, 
has won the regard of some young Roman; let us witness, 
so far as they may be ascertained from the ancient au- 
thors, the ceremonies of her betrothal and nuptials. The 
consent of the parents of both parties must first be ob- 
tained. If the suitor is regarded with favor, the father of 
the maiden says: ‘‘I give up to you my dear daughter, 
and may it be happy for me, for you, and for her.’’ Then 
the betrothal or espousal takes place. This is a family 
festival; everyone connected with the house makes it a 
holiday. The relatives are invited to share in the re- 
joicing and also to witness the contract of engagement. 
The Roman maiden did not engage herself to be married 


ROMAN MARRIAGE 135 


in the manner Ruskin complained of as characterizing 
modern times,—by moonlight, starlight, gaslight, candle- 
light, or anything but daylight. Her engagement was a 
solemnity which took place under the eyes of all her rela- 
tives and as many friends as her father cared and could 
afford to invite. The inevitable augurs are also present, 
in order that they may ascertain, by examining the en- 
trails of some bird, whether or not the Fates will be 
propitious. Their verdict will largely depend upon the 
manner in which they are treated by the parties con- 
cerned; for Cato declared that he never could understand 
how two members of this profession could look each other 
in the face without laughing. One wonders if any Roman 
girl ever availed herself of the science of these gentlemen 
to escape an undesirable suitor; for in the minds of most 
of the people the superstition was so firmly implanted 
that if an augur could have been induced to perceive mis- 
fortune in the auspices, that would have been sufficient 
to prevent the engagement. But we will suppose that the 
signs are pronounced favorable. A stipula, or straw, is 
broken between the parties, signifying that a contract 
is made. The agreement is also put in writing, for the sake 
of future reference. The man gives the maiden a plain iron 
ring, which he places upon the finger next to the smallest 
on the left hand, there being a belief that a nerve runs from 
that finger directly to the heart. He also gives presents to 
those who have made themselves useful in helping to bring 
about the engagement, and he receives a present from the 
girl. The contract of betrothal was not irrevocable; but for 
either party to withdraw from it was much more likely to 
result in a suit at law than is the case at the present time; 
and the Roman had the advantage over the jilted man in 
our day, in that it was not considered that damages for a 
breach of promise were properly due only to a woman. 


136 WOMAN 


Marriage engagements were frequently of long continu- 
ance among the Romans; for sometimes even infants were 
betrothed. The minimum age at which the marriage could 
legally take place was twelve for the girl and fourteen for 
the man. 

The selection of the wedding day was a matter in which 
more than the inclination and the convenience of the 
parties concerned had to be considered; the important 
thing was to choose a fortunate day. Ovid says: ‘‘ There 
are days when neither widow nor virgin may light the 
torch of Hymen; she who is married then will surely 
die.’”’ The Calends, the Ides, and the Nones were espe- 
cially to be avoided. The whole month of May was con- 
sidered particularly unfavorable, because it was devoted 
to the propitiation of the Lemurs, or the evil spirits. It 
was a common saying that no good woman would marry 
in the month of May. February was also avoided. June, 
on the contrary, of all the months in the year, was be- 
lieved to be the most propitious for marriages, but not 
until after the Ides, or the thirteenth day. Ovid states, 
on the authority of the wife of the flamen dialis, that 
for a fortunate marriage it was necessary to wait until 
the refuse from the Temple of Vesta had been carried 
by the Tiber to the sea; and this was not supposed to be 
accomplished until the thirteenth of June. 

The friends of our couple have decided upon a day 
which, in the common opinion, has no predilection for 
mischief. Everything necessary for the performance of 
the marriage ceremonies is provided. These ceremonies 
are of the nature of ancient usages rather than legal re- 
quirements. They are intensely symbolical, and are 
calculated to impress upon the minds of the bride and 
bridegroom a lively sense of the duties belonging to the 
new relationship into which they are entering. 


ROMAN MARRIAGE 137 


This Roman bride is relieved of one grave anxiety 
which usually accompanies the anticipatory pleasure in 
an approaching modern wedding. It is not necessary for 
her to give any thought as to the color and fashion of her 
wedding dress. This was always the same among the 
Romans; and even if that worn by the maiden whose 
marriage is now being described should happen to be an 
heirloom from her great-grandmother, she need not fear 
that it is out of style. It consists of a long white robe, 
woven in a particular manner. If the circumstances of 
her family have improved, she may perhaps sew a purple 
fringe around the border; but that is absolutely the only 
change allowed. This robe will be fastened around her 
waist with a woollen girdle, white wool being always a 
symbol of chastity. This will be tied in a Hercules knot, 
to loose which, at the end of the ceremonies, will be the 
husband’s privilege. Her hair, allowed to fall around her 
shoulders, on the wedding morn is parted with the head 
of a spear. Plutarch and other writers say that this 
custom had its origin in the rape of the Sabines, and be- 
tokened the fact that the first Roman marriages were 
Drought about by capture, and that it accordingly also 
indicated that a wife should be in subjection to her hus- 
band. Over her head the bride wears a yellow or flame- 
colored veil, this hue being held to be of good significance. 
Her brow is also crowned with a chaplet of vervain, gath- 
ered and wreathed by her own hands, for this herb signifies 
fecundity. Her shoes are also of yellow, and so constructed 
as to make her appear taller than her real height. 

Thus attired, the bridal party go first to the temple, for 
the purpose of offering sacrifice, as Virgil says, ‘‘above 
all, to Juno, whose province is the nuptial tie.’’ The 
victim considered as most appropriate is a hog; and care is 
to be taken to throw the gall of the animal as far away as 


138 WOMAN 


possible, with the hope that in like manner all bitterness 
will be put far away from this conjugal union. Then, if 
the ceremony of confarreatio is used, the couple, having 
returned to the bride’s home, are seated side by side, with 
a sheepskin covering both chairs; by which it is signified 
that although the man and the woman occupy two dif- 
ferent parts of the house, they are nevertheless united 
by a common bond. The chief priest now gives the 
wedded pair the sacred cake, which they eat together in 
token of the fact that they are henceforth to share with 
each other the necessaries of life. Although the modern 
wedding cake has developed into something far more 
elaborate than the simple Roman wafer of flour, water, 
and salt, the probability is that the former had its origin 
in the latter. 

The appearance of the star Venus in the sky is the 
signal for the bride’s departure to her new home. Ina 
formal manner, her father hands her over to her husband’s 
family, for he only can sever the bond which holds her to 
his guardianship. Henceforth her husband has the right 
by law to exercise over her that authority which has been 
held by her father. There is a pretence made of taking 
her by force from the arms of her mother or her sisters, 
in memory of the violent abduction of the Sabine women. 
Then the bridal party walk in procession to the hus- 
band’s house. Preceding them, lighting the way, are four 
married women carrying torches. The bride is directly 
attended by three boys, in selecting whom the important 
thing to be borne in mind is to take only those who have 
both parents living, otherwise it would be an extremely bad 
omen. Two of these support her by the arms, while the 
other carries a flambeau of white pine before her to dissi- 
pate all lurking enchantments and dispel all evil incanta- 
tions. Then follow maid-servants with a distaff, a spindle, 


ROMAN MARRIAGE 139 


and wool, intimating that she is to labor at spinning, as 
‘did the Roman matrons of the old time. After these comes 
a boy, who for this occasion is named Camillus; his office 
is to carry in an open basket other instruments for femi- 
nine work; and especially it has been remembered to 
include playthings and toys for the bride’s prospective 
children. All the relatives and friends join in this festive 
procession. In place of the rice which in these days 
accompanies the adieus bestowed on a newly wedded 
pair, the Roman bride was the target for all the jests and 
raillery which the wit of the spectators might suggest. 
When she reaches her new home, the bridegroom, stand- 
ing in the doorway, which is decked with garlands of 
flowers, inquires who she is. Her reply is: ‘‘ Where thou 
art Caius, there am I Caia;’’ thus beautifully intimating 
that comradeship in all things which is the ideal of mar- 
riage. Then, after the bride has anointed the doorposts 
with the fat of swine in order to turn away all enchant- 
ments, she is lifted over the threshold, which, being conse- 
crated to Vesta, it would be a bad omen for the bride to 
touch with her foot. Her husband now presents her with 
the keys, for she is henceforth to be intrusted with the 
management of his house. Both touch fire and water, 
in token that they together share these essentials of life 
and well-being. A yoke is placed about their necks, sym- 
bolizing that which they have taken upon themselves in 
their marriage; from this comes the word conjugium. The 
first joint act of the bride and bridegroom is to unite in 
the worship of the household gods, the husband thus intro- 
ducing his wife to the guardian spirits of his home—the 
most sacred things of his family. She is henceforth to be 
associated with him in his domestic worship, and she has 
become a sharer in the inheritance of fame left by his an- 
cestors, who are venerated in the adoration of their Manes. 


140 WOMAN 


These solemn observances being ended, now follows the 
banquet. At this, the bride reclines on the same divan 
with her husband at the head of the table; for she is 
already hostess where he is host. Now has come the 
opportunity for boisterous hilarity. The solemnities are 
all completed, and the remaining time is wholly given up 
to the merriment which is always deemed a fitting accom- 
paniment to the first adventure of a couple among the 
changes and chances of the marriage state. All the guests 
join in singing the Thalassius,—a chant in which every 
bridegroom is congratulated on being as fortunate in his 
lot as was that traditional Quirite who obtained the 
brightest flower of the Sabine maidens. 

The banquet being ended, the bride is conducted by the 
matrons to the nuptial chamber, which is always the atrium, 
or the central room of the house. Here is placed the /ectus 
gentalis, richly adorned and covered with flowers. The 
bridegroom throws nuts among his former companions, as 
a sign that he is now forsaking the life of his boyhood 
for the responsibilities of man’s estate. After his depart- 
ure, the young people entertain the newly married couple 
by singing outside the door fescennine verses, in which is 
indulged a liberty of expression to which modern ears are 
unaccustomed. 

Commonly, the songs chanted at the celebration of 
Roman marriages had no literary merit whatever, and 
were chiefly characterized by their grossness; but some- 
times these occasions inspired the genius of the best poets, 
from which resulted some of the most beautiful Latin 
verse. Catullus has three such pieces. In his Nuptial 
Song, youths and maidens are represented as contending 
with each other in improvised versification. Hesperus, 
the evening star, is reproached by the virgins and lauded 
by the young men as being the signal for the bride to 


ROMAN MARRIAGE I41 


leave her mother’s arms for those of her husband. In 
the last chorus, both parties unite in exhorting the young 
wife to use complaisance with her husband, and not to 
‘* strive against two parents who have bestowed their own 
rights along with thy dowry on their son-in-law.’’ The 
Marriage of Peleus and Thetis, the longest of the poems 
of Catullus, may not have been intended to be sung at 
a wedding; though that is a question on which classic 
scholars are not agreed. It treats of marriage, however, 
in a very interesting and original fashion; and may throw 
some light on Roman customs, notwithstanding the fact 
that the characters introduced are the offspring of the 
gods. ‘‘ The mansion, in every part of its opulent inte- 
rior, glitters with shining gold and silver; white are the 
ivory seats; goblets gleam on the tables; the whole dwell- 
ing rejoices in the splendor of regal wealth. In the midst 
of the mansion is placed the genial couch of the goddess, 
inlaid with polished Indian tooth, and covered with purple 
dyed with the shell’s rosy juice. This coverlet, diversi- 
fied with figures of the men of yore, portrays the virtues 
of heroes with wondrous art.’’ Then follows the principal 
part of the poem, which is a description of the pictures 
worked upon the tapestry of the bed. The subject of 
these is the history of Ariadne. We are to imagine the 
poet standing by the couch and pointing out the incidents 
portrayed, with their causes and consequences. This 
being concluded, the gods, and especially the Parce, are 
introduced to the marriage feast; and the latter, as they 
spin their thread, ‘‘ utter soothsaying canticles.’’ 

Catullus has given us a veritable example of the Roman 
wedding song in his epithalamium on the marriage of 
Manlius and Julia. Of this Julia we know nothing further 
than that she was of the Cotta family; Manlius was of 
the illustrious lineage of the Torquati. If only there were 


142 WOMAN 


historic warrant for believing that this couple were as 
charming in their personalities as they are described in 
this poem, and that all the good wishes therein expressed 
did really materialize, the marriage of Manlius and Julia 
might stand for all time as the summum bonum of wedded 
felicity. A few stanzas from Lamb’s translation will serve 
to illustrate the character of the epithalamium, and will 
also fairly indicate the place and nature of sentiment in 
the Roman conception of the marriage relation. 


‘*When Venus claim’d the golden prize, 
And bless’d the Phrygian shepherd’s eyes; 
No brighter charms his judgment sway’d 
Than those that grace this mortal maid; 
And every sigh and omen fair 
The nuptials hail, Aer Brest the pair. 


** Propitiate here the eoitaaty S vows, 
And lead her fondly to her spouse; 
And firm as ivy clinging holds 
The tree it grasps in mazy folds, 
Let virtuous love as firmly bind 
The tender passions of her mind. 


“*Ye virgins, whom a day like this 

Awaits to greet with equal bliss, 

Oh! join the song, your voices raise 

To hail the god we love to praise. 

O Hymen! god of faithful pairs; 

O Hymen! hear our earnest prayers. 
‘‘Invoked by sires with anxious fear, 

Their children’s days with bliss to cheer; 

By maidens, who to thee alone 

Unloose the chaste, the virgin zone; 

By fervid bridegrooms, whose delight 

Is stay’d till thou hast bless’d the rite. 
**Raise, boys, the beaming torches high! 

She comes—but veil’d from every eye; 

The deeper dyes her blushes hide; 

With songs, with peans greet the bride! 


ROMAN MARRIAGE 143 


Hail, Hymen! god of faithful pairs, 

Hail, Hymen! who hast heard our prayers. 
**Riches, and power, and rank, and state, 

With Manlius’ love thy days await; 

These all thy youth shall proudly cheer, 

And these shall nurse thy latest year. 

Hail, Hymen! god of faithful pairs! 

Hail, Hymen! who hast heard our prayers. 
‘Oh! boundless be your love’s excess, 

And soon our hopes let children bless; 

Let not this ancient honor’d name 

Want heirs to guard its future fame; 

Nor any length of years assign 

A limit to the glorious line. 


“Let young Torquatus’ look avow 
All Manlius’ features in his brow; 
That those, who know him not, may trace 
The knowledge of his noble race; 
And by his lineal brow declare 
His lovely mother chaste as fair. 


**Now close the doors, ye maiden friends; 
Our sports, our rite, our service ends. 
With you let virtue still reside, 

O bridegroom brave, and gentle bride, 
And youth its lusty hours employ 
In constant love and ardent joy.” 


The bluntly practical disposition of the Romans reveals 
itself even in their attitude toward that phase of human 
life which preéminently furnished scope for romance. In 
their expressions concerning marriage, its physical basis is 
acknowledged with unnecessary frankness. No vestige 
is found among them of any pretence of belief in that 
exalted communion which, though it is probably nothing 
more than an imaginary refinement, is commonly talked 
of as Platonic love. There is no idealizing of the amatory 
emotions,—such as we are accustomed to in novels which 


144 WOMAN 


are not ‘‘ realistic,’’—thereby affording an opportunity to 
ignore the lower aspect. 

A woman, after marriage, retained her former name; 
but it was joined to that of her husband, as, for example, 
Julia Pompeii, Terentia Ciceronis. She was also called 
. domina, the mistress. On the day after her marriage, 
the Roman bride, by a sacrifice which she offered to the 
Lares, formally took possession of her position as mistress 
of the household. Then she assumed the control of the 
servants and slaves, setting them their tasks and taking 
upon herself the superintendence of all things in the home. 
By unwritten law, no servile work was required of the 
Roman matron, unless she were so poor as not to own a 
slave. She might spin, and, indeed, it was to her credit 
if she thus diligently employed herself, for this was an 
occupation which the most cherished traditions would not 
permit the noblest to despise. It was carried on in the 
atrium, where the matron sat surrounded by her husband’s 
ancestral images and where she received her friends. 
When she went abroad, she was known to be a matron 
because of her sfo/a; the inner side of the walk was given 
to her by every Roman citizen she might happen to meet; 
and if anything indecent was said or done in her presence, 
it was an offence which might be punished by law. 

In the earliest times, the dissolution of the marriage 
bond was of extremely rare occurrence, for the praise- 
worthy reason that the manners of the people were such 
that there seldom arose an occasion for divorce. In those 
first ages, however, the laws concerning this matter were 
characterized by an exceeding severity and unfairness to 
the woman. In no case was she allowed to divorce her 
husband; though she might be put away by him, not only 
for conjugal iniidelity and such crimes as using drugs to 
prevent the possibility of childbearing, or for deceiving him 


ROMAN MARRIAGE 145 


by the introduction of fictitious children, but even if she 
counterfeited his keys or surreptitiously drank his wine, 
and, in the earliest times, if she drank wine at all. Car- 
vilius is said to have been the first Roman to put away his 
wife; but it is difficult to believe that, notwithstanding 
the fact that laws providing for such a proceeding existed 
from the time of the kingdom, no divorce really took place 
until B.C. 231. Probably certain circumstances connected 
with this divorce gave it such notoriety that it was the 
first which impressed itself upon the attention of the his- 
torians. It is said that Carvilius, though he loved his wife, 
divorced her on account of barrenness, he having, with 
many other citizens, made a vow to marry for the sake 
of offspring. 

In later times, the women gained the right to secure 
divorce; and as morals began to show the signs of de- 
cadence, there was nothing so indicative of the terrible 
laxity which prevailed as the trivial causes for which 
husbands and wives were allowed to separate. Incom- 
patibility of temperament was the common complaint. In 
the ancient and nobler times, there was a small temple 
dedicated to Viriplaca, the marital peacemaker; and when 
a difference occurred between husband and wife, they 
met and entered into explanations before the goddess, 
usually with the result of a restoration of harmony; but 
Viriplaca was gradually forgotten, and matrimonial chaos 
ensued. 

When this laxity came to be the prevailing rule, the 
wife who was rich and, moreover, inclined to be in any 
way disagreeable held her husband at her mercy. If he 
divorced her without any considerable fault of hers, or if 
they parted by mutual consent, she took her dowry and 
left him with the children. If, as was very likely to be 
the case, he had married her for her property, he was 


146 WOMAN 


obliged to be submissive. Plautus says: ‘‘ The portion- 
less wife is subject to her husband’s will; wives with 
dowries are as executioners for their husbands.’’ Martial, 
inveighing against a miserly woman who will not furnish 
her husband with a new cloak as a New Year’s gift, says: 
‘Why, Proculeia, do you cast off your husband in the 
month of January? This is not in your case a divorce; it 
is a good stroke of business.’’ During the worst times, 
the law restricted the number of divorces obtainable by 
an individual to eight. If we are to believe Juvenal, 
there were women who were sufficiently enterprising to 
reach the limit in five years. The satirist describes them as 
leaving the doors only recently adorned, the tapestry used 
for the marriage festival still hanging on the house, and 
the branches still green upon the threshold. Seneca says 
that in his time it had come to such a pass that women 
reckoned the years, not by the names of the consuls, but 
by the husbands they had divorced. 

Yet, notwithstanding—perhaps it would be more correct 
to say, on account of—this excessive willingness on the 
part of the women to enter into contracts of marriage, it 
became necessary in the time of the first empire to de- 
cree severe penalties against celibacy; and bonuses were 
awarded to those in whose families children were born. 
Even as early as B.C. 121, Metellus the Censor, complain- 
ing in the Senate of the increasing tendency to avoid the 
responsibilities of matrimony, said: ‘‘ Could we exist with- 
out wives at all, doubtless we should rid ourselves of the 
plague they are to us; since, however, nature has decreed 
that we cannot dispense with the infliction, it is best to 
bear it manfully, and rather look to the permanent con- 
servation of the State than to our own passing comfort.’’ 

In a condition of society in which the most conspicu- 
ous women were unrestrained by any worthy ideals of 


ROMAN MARRIAGE 147 


the responsibilities of wifehood, and where men were at 
liberty, and found abundant opportunity, to gratify their 
basest propensities with no fear of any reproof other than 
being made the subject of humorous allusion, it is not to 
be wondered at that the latter were inclined to shun the 
cares and the vicissitudes of marriage. Juvenal claimed 
that a good wife was rarer than a white crow; and Pliny 
held that celibacy alone afforded an unobstructed road 
to power and fortune. The former’s terrible sixth satire 
was written as a warning against matrimony. ‘‘And yet 
you are preparing your marriage covenant, and the settle- 
ment, and betrothal, in our days; and are already under 
the hands of the master barber, and perhaps have already 
given the pledge for her finger. Well, you used to be 
sane, at all events! You, Postumus, going to marry! 
Say, what Tisiphone, what snakes, are driving you mad? 
Can you submit to be the slave of any woman, while so 
many halters are to be had? so long as high and dizzy 
windows are accessible, and the AEmilian bridge presents 
itself so near at hand?’’ The women are accused of every 
enormity known in that Rome where vice attained such 
proportions as have never been approached in any civiliza- 
tion in the history of the world. But it is contrary to the 
office of the satirist to present a true picture of the whole. 
Writing of vice, he sees nothing but iniquity; of the good 
he has nothing to say, for it is not in his province. That 
even then there were good women we know full well. 
Julia, the aunt of Caesar; Octavia, faithful to her mar- 
riage vows despite the ill returns she received from Mark 
Antony; Agrippina, the beloved and faithful wife of the 
noble Germanicus; Livia also, the wife of Augustus, whose 
matrimonial fidelity—-whatever may have been her char- 
acter in other respects—no suspicion ever assailed. If 
these women, in their high stations, could exemplify all 


148 WOMAN 


the best traditions of the matrons of the old time, we may 
be sure that there were innumerable good wives in the 
commoner ranks. 

Out on the Appian Way, there is to be seen one of the 
strangest monuments that a grotesque fancy ever devised. 
It is the tomb of Marcus Vergilius Eurysaces, who was 
baker to the apparetores. The monument consists of a 
row of great cylinders representing measures for grain. 
Upon these, in three tiers, are huge kneading troughs, 
placed with their mouths turned outward. Above is a 
frieze representing various incidents connected with the 
baker’s trade. There is evidence that originally there 
was a similar monument standing by the side of this, for 
an inscription was found which reads: Antistia was my 
wife; she was the best woman alive; cf whose body the remains 
which are left are in this bread basket. Here was a man 
of the people who appreciated his wife. Doubtless Antistia 
was a good woman, and lived happily with the baker, just 
as there were myriads of other faithful pairs whose names 
are not recorded on monuments nor have any place in 
history. 

And yet, even the highest Roman standards of morality 
were not such as have been evolved through many cen- 
turies of inculcation of Christian principles. Among the 
best of the pagan Romans, concubinage was looked upon 
as a defensible institution. The laws in regard to citizen- 
ship shut out a large class of women from the privilege 
of marriage with freeborn Romans; as, for instance, the 
daughters of foreigners who had not been naturalized. 
These could only become mistresses or enter into left- 
handed marriages. If a citizen who was unmarried wished 
to live with such a woman, of course no ceremony was 
needed; there was nothing binding about the union, and 
at the same time it was not considered to be in any wise 


ROMAN MARRIAGE 149 


indecent. On more than one tomb there is found an 
inscription to ‘‘the beloved concubine.’’ Acte held this 
relationship with the Emperor Nero; and to her credit it 
surely must be allowed that she was the only person near 
him against whom he did not maliciously turn, and who 
seemed to have with him some slight influence for good. 
Antoninus Pius, one of the very best of the Roman 
emperors, when his beloved Faustina died, took a con- 
cubine. He would not marry again, because he did not 
wish to bring his four children under the uncertain care 
of a stepmother. And having before him the domestic 
history of more than one imperial family in which were 
exhibited the tender mercies of such a stepmother as was 
Livia the wife of Augustus, Antoninus may well be ex- 
_ cused for his precaution. What was the name of the 
woman he took we do not know, nor are we informed as 
to her character; only, Marcus Aurelius says: ‘‘I am 
thankful to the gods that I was not longer brought up 
with my father’s concubine.”’ 


Poh 
The ee) Py 


Chapter Wi 
GHAoman under Julius Casar 


Choe 


' 
ei) 


VI 


WOMAN UNDER JULIUS CESAR 


ROME was now riven and torn by cataclysms of civil 
strife. The foundations of the Republic were shaken by 
the explosion of new social forces, the growth of which 
was naturally attendant upon the spread of conquest, and 
which could no longer be confined within the narrow 
limits of the old constitution. Marius, Sylla, Pompey, and 
Czsar—these are the names around which gathers the 
history of the pains and death groans of the expiring 
Republic. Crimson was the color of each political party; 
and the blood of opponents was the means used for its 
exhibition. Rome had become too great for her ancient 
civic constitution: she was restlessly awaiting the arrival 
of a man who could thrust himself above all opposition, 
and in his own person unify the government. Imperial- 
ism or anarchy must necessarily follow such a Republic 
as Rome had become in the closing century of the pre- 
Christian era. 

During those fierce political disturbances and bloody 
revolutions, how did woman fare? She was by no means 
secure in that quiet, unmolested round of conjugal duty 
and domestic life which had so long been hers by right. 
In the sanguinary civil wars and murderous proscriptions 
which resulted from the ambitions of the leaders, life for 


153 


154 WOMAN 


the Roman people was of extremely uncertain tenure. It 
is easy to surmise what the women of many Italian cities 
suffered when whole populations were put to the sword 
under the merciless Sylla. Death, outrage, and slavery 
became so common that there was developed in the 
Roman women that indifference to the sight of human 
suffering which appears to us as nothing less than mon- 
strous. Under Sylla, wives were accustomed to being 
simultaneously robbed of their husbands and their suste- | 
nance; as in the case of that peaceful citizen who, finding 
his own name in the lists of the proscribed, exclaimed: 
‘*My Alban farm has informed against me,’’ and was 
immediately thereafter slain. 

The political changes of the time wrought no marked 
alteration in the status of the women; that is, no legisla- 
tion was enacted which, in any special manner, bore upon 
their condition and privileges. Certain developments did 
take place in the manner of life of the women of Rome; 
but these were the natural results of the character of the 
times. The weakening of moral principle which we have 
noticed in a preceding chapter continued with accelerated 
rapidity. The bounds set by traditional honor were over- 
thrown with increasing recklessness, and the habits of 
many of the upper-class women carried the sex still further 
beyond the limits of old-fashioned morality. 

In this period we also see the women beginning to lay 
their hands to that particular sort of political work to 
which they are adapted. In the days of the Gracchi, it 
had become possible for a bright and intellectual lady to 
draw around her learned men, grammarians, and philoso- 
phers; we shall now see such women, who have other 
ambitions, gathering politicians, and sometimes conspira- 
tors, in their atriums. There was Sempronia, for example, 
who was of the family of the Gracchi and the wife of 


WOMAN UNDER JULIUS CESAR 155 


Decimus Brutus. In her house Catiline was in the habit 
of meeting his followers for the purpose of plotting his 
conspiracy. Of her character and attainments Sallust 
gives us this interesting description: ‘‘A woman who had 
committed many crimes, with the spirit of a man. In birth 
and beauty, in her husband and her children, she was 
extremely fortunate; she was skilled in Greek and Roman 
literature; she could sing, play, and dance, with greater 
elegance than became a woman of virtue, and possessed 
many other accomplishments that tend to excite the pas- 
sions. But nothing was ever less valued by her than 
honor or chastity. Whether she was more prodigal of her 
money or her reputation, it would have been difficult to de- 
cide. She had frequently, before this period, forfeited her 
word, forsworn debts, been privy to murder, and hurried 
into the utmost excesses by her extravagances and pov- 
erty. But her abilities were by no means despicable; she 
could compose verses, jest, and join in conversation either 
modest, tender, or licentious. In a word, she was dis- 
tinguished by much refinement of wit and much grace 
of expression.’’ She seems to have been the equal of 
Cornelia in ability, and her reverse in character; which, 
perhaps, illustrates the degeneracy of the times as much 
as it does the special turpitude of this particular woman. 
The Romans were learning the political uses of a salon. 
The women began to acquire the knowledge that, for 
those who have access to the powerful male leaders, 
much may be accomplished by a fair face if backed by 
an active brain, even though the ballot be denied. The 
way was being prepared for a Livia and an Agrippina. 
The women were forced to take a greater interest in 
politics, for the simple reason that politics had become a 
most hazardous business. Their husbands might be riding 
in triumph one day, and finding their names in the lists 


156 WOMAN 


of the proscribed the next; hence, it often happened that 
only by mingling in political intrigues could the wives 
secure their own safety and that of those to whom they 
were united by affection. The times had changed. In 
the old days, the women were accustomed, with patriotic 
ardor, to encourage their male relatives as they marched 
out against the public enemy, and they bravely devoted 
their sons to the welfare of the State; but in the times of 
which we are now treating, those did the best service 
who possessed the wit to discover a plot. It was to a 
courtesan named Fulvia that Cicero was indebted for the 
detection of the Catiline conspiracy. 

In the general estimation of the men, however, the chief 
political use which women might serve was to reinforce, 
by marriage, the strained relations between rival poli- 
ticians. Accordingly, the daughter of a powerful leader 
would be married and divorced, passed from one man to 
another, with almost as much facility as a detachment of 
light cavalry might appear first in one part and then in 
another of a battlefield. These enforced marriages for 
political purposes had the effect of so training the women 
that, in the succeeding generations, they could with all 
the greater levity sever the bonds of matrimony for their 
own capricious ends. With what nonchalant freedom 
women made such entrance into the hazardous arena of 
public life is indicated in the story of Valeria. She was a 
sprightly young lady, who had been divorced from her 
husband. One day, in the theatre, as she passed behind 
Sylla on the way to her seat, she stopped for a moment 
and plucked a little bit of wool from the dictator’s cloak. 
This caused him to turn and regard her with some wonder- 
ment. Whereupon she said: ‘‘Surely, sir, you cannot 
object if in picking a little thread from your garment I 
also desired to share a small portion of your good fortune.’’ 


WOMAN UNDER JULIUS CAESAR 157 


She went on to her seat; but it soon became apparent 
that Sylla was not displeased. During the performance, 
the lady was of more interest to him than the gladiatorial 
spectacle, and it was not long before a marriage was 
arranged. 

This made the fifth time that Sylla had wedded. Just 
previously to his thus romantically making the acquaint- 
ance of Valeria he had lost by death Cacilia Metella, to 
whom reference has heretofore been made, and who was 
one of the best women of her time. Kind and compas- 
sionate by nature, she often successfully interceded for 
the lives of men whom her relentless husband had fore- 
doomed. At her death, though there is every indication 
that he held her in the highest regard, his action was pecul- 
iar and extremely characteristic of the man. Because the 
priest of Venus Victrix, to which goddess he was especially 
devoted, forbade him to allow his house to be polluted by 
mourning, while Metella was on her deathbed he sent her 
a bill of divorce and caused her to be removed to the home 
of one of her relatives. Yet, after her death he went so 
far as to transgress his own law against funeral expense, 
and provided the most elaborate obsequies in her honor. 

Sylla was absolutely without conscience in his employ- 
ment of marriage and divorce for political ends. Metella’s 
daughter by her first husband had been married to Glabrio 
the Censor. The dictator saw a more useful ally in young 
Cnzus Pompeius, who was already married to Antistia; 
therefore, he commanded Glabrio and Pompeius to divorce 
their wives, and the latter to take AEmilia, his stepdaughter. 
Piso, also at his suggestion, had divorced his wife Annia. 
But when Sylla attempted to employ the same tactics with 
Czesar, he made the discovery that he had encountered a 
man of altogether different metal. The latter had married 
Cornelia, the daughter of Cinna. They had one child, a 


158 WOMAN 


little daughter named Julia, who afterward became the wife 
of Pompey. When Cesar was ordered by the all-powerful 
dictator to divorce Cornelia, he absolutely refused, pre- 
ferring death to subjection to such tyranny. There is 
every warrant for belief that Cornelia was worthy of the 
' devotion of her husband, which she enjoyed to the day 
of her death. 

Czsar was a turning point in the course of Roman 
history, a crisis in the history of the world. His labors 
affected an epoch, and the tragedy of his passing is a 
memory which can never be relinquished by the human 
mind. Yet, inasmuch as a man’s greatness is always in 
large measure attributable to the character of the times 
in which he lives, the same conditions which he seizes to 
raise himself to the highest position serve also to surround 
him with other men who approach him in that wisdom, 
strength, and valor which are developed by the common 
environment. Cesar was first in a community of heroic 
souls. Pompey, Mark Antony, Brutus, Cato, and Cassius, 
all exhibit in their character and their powers a greater or 
lesser participation in those qualities which made Cesar 
preeminent. This is none the less true also of the women of 
the day; the times wrought greatness of soul in them to as 
liberal a degree as inthe men. Hazard, ambition, and high 
enterprise carried the women of this period far in the de- 
velopment of those qualities which are brought out by such 
means. Portia, Calpurnia, Fulvia, Julia, and Cornelia were 
fit companions for their renowned masculine associates. 

Hence, independent of how little or how much the femi- 
nine participants in this great world-drama may appear 
upon the stage, we may be certain that when they are 
seen we have before us some of the most remarkable 
women in history, if for no other reason than that they 
are connected with the plot of that drama. 


WOMAN UNDER JULIUS CESAR 159 


The attention is naturally first drawn to those women 
who were most intimately connected with Julius Czesar. 
To Aurelia, the daughter of M. Aurelius Cotta, was des- 
tined the honor of bringing into the world the man who 
was to bear one of the three most renowned names in its 
military history. She lost her husband, Caius Julius, while 
their son was yet a boy; but, from what is known of her 
character, it is evident that she was not unequal to the task 
of superintending alone the completion of young Czsar’s 
education. It was undoubtedly to her influence that he 
owed the development of those traits which are most 
pleasing in his greatness. Tacitus is sufficient authority 
for this, likening as he does Aurelia to the mother of the 
Gracchi. She was one of the few surviving representa- 
tives of that matronal dignity and virtue which beautified 
the austerity of the earlier days of the Republic. Her 
house, small and frugally managed, was situated under 
the Esquiline and Viminal hills, in that low part of Rome 
called the Subura. It was not a fashionable quarter; in 
fact, it was a street of shops and taverns. It resounded 
with the clamor of traffic and the noise of such broils and 
revelry as are usual in the vicinity of pothouses. At the 
top of the street, there was a depressed, open space, called 
the Lacus Orphei because of a statue of Orpheus which 
stood there. To this spot, which must have made an 
admirable playground, Aurelia was in the habit of sending 
a slave to look for the young Casar when the shades of 
night fell on the unlighted streets. It is also likely that 
she as frequently, and with much more satisfaction, caused 
him to be looked for in the Vicus Sandaliarius, a street 
running parallel with her own, where were the book- 
sellers’ shops. 

In her unpretentious residence, with its plebeian sur- 
roundings, Aurelia kept house for her son. When he 


160 WOMAN 


brought home Cornelia, the daughter of Cinna the Consul, 
as his bride, his mother decked the threshold and prepared 
the modest atrium for the nuptial ceremonies. Here was 
born the little Julia, the only child that ever blessed the 
home of Cesar. 

When the order came from Sylla that, if he would pre- 
serve his life and serve his best interests, Caesar must put 
away his wife so as to be free to form a matrimonial union 
with the dictator’s party, there is no doubt that Aurelia’s 
virtuous counsel supported her son’s courage in refusing 
to comply with so tyrannical a command. The result was 
that Caesar was obliged to leave the city, hardly escaping 
the assassin’s hand; and the two women were left for 
two years to comfort each other as best they could in the 
absence of a husband and a son. That they were im- 
poverished by the rapacious Sylla—who, when he could 
not touch the person of an enemy, contented himself 
with seizing his property—we know. Fortunate were 
they if their lives were not still more embittered by 
the knowledge of those vile slanders which came from 
Bithynia, for the disproof of which there is no evidence 
needed beside the character of him whose name was so 
maliciously besmirched. 

After two years of loneliness, these devoted women 
were made happy by receiving the exile home. From 
that time on, Aurelia’s maternal pride was satisfied by 
beholding the star of her son’s fortunes, though at times 
beclouded by rivalry, always ascending and brightening. 
He rose from one office to another, until the day came 
when she saw him elected chief pontiff over the heads of 
two candidates who were his superiors in age, rank, and 
wealth. On this election he had staked everything. If he 
failed, his debts would overwhelm him. In the morning, 
as he left the little house in the Subura, kissing his mother 


WOMAN UNDER JULIUS CAESAR 161 


good-bye, he had said: ‘‘Mother, I will return home pontiff, 
or not at all.’? How anxiously she must have awaited the 
result! All through the day, she heard his name shouted 
with approbation by the people on the street; and in the 
evening, he returned to inform her that she must move 
with him to the palace of the pontificate on the Via Sacra. 

Cornelia was no longer there to share in Aurelia’s pride 
and Cesar’s good fortune. During the year B.C. 68, 
Czsar had pronounced two funeral panegyrics. One was 
for his aunt, Julia, the wife of that unpolished but indomi- 
table soldier, Marius. Little is known of this lady; but at 
Les Baux, in Provence, there is a monument on which are 
represented Marius and Julia, and between them—sug- 
gestive it may be of private trials endured by the latter 
—RMartha, the Syrian prophetess, who accompanied and 
advised Marius in all his adventurous undertakings. The 
second funeral oration delivered by Cesar was for his 
faithful wife Cornelia. Matrons so young as she were 
not often honored with a panegyric at their obsequies; 
and it testifies no less to the worth of her character than 
to her husband’s devotion that he, in this instance, trans- 
gressed the custom with the approval of the people. : 

It was not long, however, before Aurelia was called — 
upon to welcome a new bride of her son, this time to the 
magnificence of the pontifical abode. Marriage was looked 
upon by the best Romans as a citizen’s duty; and for a 
man to abbreviate his widowed regrets was not regarded 
as censurable conduct; though, on the other hand, the 
constancy of widowed matrons was held in the highest 
honor. The Romans, notwithstanding their aptitude for 
law, cared little for consistency in their distribution of 
privileges between men and women. 

Czsar’s second wife was Pompeia, the granddaughter 
of Sylla, whose family Aurelia had but little cause to love. 


162 WOMAN 


What the mother’s attitude toward the new bride was we 
do not know. Two things are certain from the narrative 
of the sequel to this marriage: Aurelia continued to main- 
tain the position of domina in the house of her son, for it 
was she who had charge of the ceremonies of the Bona 
Dea which Clodius interrupted by his intrusion; and the 
inferences are all against the innocence of Pompeia, for, 
had she been faithful, Clodius would not have ventured 
into the house at such a time. She was divorced by 
Czsar; but he took no active part in the proceedings 
against Clodius. When called upon to testify, he con- 
tented himself with the declaration that he knew nothing 
about the affair; which was true in a sense, inasmuch as 
he was not present. The matter might have been hushed, 
had it not been for the matrons, who could not brook that 
their sacred mysteries should be thus invaded. Terentia, 
the wife of Cicero, was especially persistent. She was a 
woman who interfered in political matters to such a degree 
that, when her husband was consul, she was spoken of sar- 
castically as being his colleague. Having a private grudge 
against Clodius, she so incited Cicero that the powerful 
advocate completely refuted the defendant’s strong plea 
of an alibi. 

Cesar’s testimony that he was uninformed as to what 
had happened at his house was not satisfactory to the 
prosecutor, who shrewdly inquired: ‘*‘ Why, then, did you 
divorce Pompeia?’’ The reply was: ‘‘ Cesar’s wife must 
be above suspicion!’’—a reply haughty enough to be char- 
acteristic of the man, and deemed a sufficient check to all 
further cross-examination. But, viewing the whole situa- 
tion from our standpoint, it is impossible to refrain from 
‘the comment that, if Casar had been equipped with any- 
thing corresponding to a modern conscience, he could 
scarcely have had the effrontery to utter such a saying. 


WOMAN UNDER JULIUS CAESAR 163 


Just and generous as he was, he was incapable of enter- 
taining the idea that there should be but one code of morals 
for the woman and the man. If Cesar’s wife had said: 
‘The husband of Pompeia must be above suspicion,”’ it 
would have appeared as ridiculous to her contemporaries 
as it was impossible of realization. 

We may well give as little heed as did Cesar himself 
to the calumnious stigma upon his name which disgraces 
the pages of the historians and the verse of Catullus. 
Yet, setting this aside as unworthy of credence, evidence 
seems to prove abundantly his propensity for those gal- 
lantries which were considered among the least repre- 
hensible immoralities by the men of his time. The names 
of many women were connected with that of the great 
soldier in a manner which is detrimental to the reputation 
of all concerned. Unless higher criticism of a most radical 
and partial kind is adopted in the study of the ancient 
historians, we must take their word that ladies of the 
highest quality surrendered to Cesar’s attractions. It is 
said that Pompey was wont to refer to the chief pontiff as 
fEgisthus; and that when he spoke of him it was with a 
sigh which was elicited not so much on account of Caesar’s 
greater success in affairs of State as by his rivalry in the 
affections of Mucia, who, like Clytemnestra, was won by 
the pontiff while her husband was absent in war. Pos- 
thumia, wife of Servius Sulpicius, Lollia, wife of Aulus 
Gabinius, and Tertulla, wife of Marcus Crassus, come 
under the same indictment. The husbands named were 
close friends of the man who shared with them in their 
conjugal rights, as well as climbed over their shoulders 
in political ascendency; and they served him well in the 
furtherance of his latter-mentioned projects. It has been 
argued that if Czesar’s conduct had really been as blame- 
worthy as is alleged, he could not have retained the amity 


164 WOMAN 


of these men; but the argument proves nothing. What 
if he were a sufficient adept in policy—a thing not un- 
known in the history of human experience—to be able to 
command the hands and the heads of the husbands through 
the hearts of their wives? 

There was one woman who had for Cesar a passionate 
attachment which was returned by him with an ardent 
and lasting affection in which political ambition played 
no part. This was Servilia, the half-sister of Cato and 
the mother of Marcus Brutus. Unfortunately, this lady’s 
regard for her powerful lover did not carry with it the 
confidence and the friendship of her brother and her son. 
Modern writers, notably Froude and Baring Gould, strive 
to eliminate everything of an unworthy nature from the 
mutual affection which is known to have existed between 
Servilia and Czsar; but their argument is devoid of his- 
torical proof. Much as we may be inclined to eradicate 
from the character of the great Roman everything that is 
unpleasant, it will not do to ignore or explain away every 
tittle of evidence that has been handed down by the an- 
cient authorities on this subject. It may have been but the 
unfounded surmise of the gossips that it was a billet-doux 
from his sister which caused Cato to demand of Cesar, 
during an acrimonious Senatorial debate, that he make 
known the contents of a note the latter had just received; 
nevertheless, we have it on the authority of Plutarch that 
Czsar believed Brutus to be his own son. In this the 
great Imperator may very easily have been mistaken; but 
as to the fact that he had reason to believe in the possi- 
bility of such a thing, surely the conclusions of modern 
writers should have less weight than the plain statements 
of the ancient historians, which are the sole and only 
source of any knowledge whatsoever that we may have 
on the subject. It is true that slanderers were even 


WOMAN UNDER JULIUS CESAR 165 


coarser-minded and less restrained among the Romans of 
those days than they are in our own time; and among 
them Cicero was as preéminently conscienceless as he was 
clever. Hence, it is not necessary for us to take seriously 
his pun on the name of Servilia’s daughter, when, remark- 
ing on the low price at which Servilia obtained some lands 
from Cesar, he says: ‘‘ Between ourselves, Tertia [or, a 
third] was deducted,’’ intimating that the mother profited 
by her daughter’s dishonor. 

Calpurnia, the daughter of L. Calpurnius Piso, was the 
third wife of Czsar. For fourteen years she occupied 
the Regia, the pontifical residence, as its domina. Thus 
she was the highest lady in Rome and in'the Empire. 
That she became the consort of Casar for reasons of 
expediency is very probable; but that she was possessed 
of a deep and lasting affection for her husband, which was 
reciprocated by him with tender regard, is shown by their 
conduct on the eve of his death. During the years of 
Calpurnia’s union with Cesar, though he crowded them 
with events of tremendous import in the history of Rome, 
nothing whatever is recorded of his wife. Her name has 
come down to us untarnished with any scandal; which, 
considering the fact that the historians of that time incor- 
porated such stories in their records on the least possible 
warrant, is a very strong testimony to the purity of her 
life, which was devoted to furthering the interests of Czsar 
among his friends, caring for his home during his many 
and lengthened absences, and ministering to his comfort in 
the short respites which his innumerable cares afforded 
him. All that we really know of her character is revealed 
in his time of danger, in which everything is to her credit. 

In the plot of Julius Cavsar, Shakespeare, with historical 
accuracy, introduces only two feminine characters: Cal- 
purnia and Portia, the latter the worthy wife of the 


166 WOMAN 


noblest of the conspirators. Were they friends, these 
two ladies, as their husbands were supposed to be? Did 
they visit each other and engage in the discussion of those 
topics which were then current in the atriums and gardens 
of Rome? Did Calpurnia sometimes spend an afternoon 
with Portia in her house on the Aventine; and though 
somewhat chilled by the austere and philosophical de- 
meanor of the descendant of the Censor, yet cordially 
invite her to the more magnificent palace of Cesar? This 
we do not know. Possibly the terrible event which was 
in store cast a shadow upon any intercourse which the 
women may have had; especially since Cato, the brother 
of Portia, had found in Calpurnia’s marriage occasion for 
denunciation, for the reason that her father was imme- 
diately thereupon made consul. 

Of the two women, Portia is much the better known; 
and, though she may not really have been superior to the 
wife of Czsar, she may justly be taken as the best repre- 
sentative of the noblest type of Roman matron of that 
period. In her we see the effect of stoical training on the 
character of a normal woman. There have been many 
women of greater firmness of mind, more self-control, 
more power to witness and take part in fearsome deeds 
without a tremor of the lips or a blanching of the coun- 
tenance. These are abnormal women, in whose character 
nature had mingled an undue amount of the masculine 
element. But in Portia we have no Lady Macbeth; she 
did not and could not have instigated her husband to 
bloody deeds. Her character was of itself gentle and 
most womanly; her conduct was the result of education. 
She herself admitted that, if she were stronger than her 
sex, it was the result of being ‘‘so father’d and so hus- 
banded.’’ Her philosophy taught her to strive for stoical 
firmness, but she ever found in herself nothing but a 


WOMAN UNDER JULIUS CAESAR 167 


woman’s strength. This is seen in the historian’s ac- 
count, and is wonderfully brought out by Shakespeare in 
the scene in which he portrays her almost dying for news 
from the Capitol. 


‘*PORTIA.—I prithee, boy, run to the senate-house ; 
Stay not to answer me, but get thee gone: 
Why dost thou stay ? 
LUCIUS.—To know my errand, madam. 
PORTIA.—I would have had thee there, and here again, 
Ere | can tell thee what thou shouldst do there.— 
O constancy, be strong upon my side! 
Set a huge mountain ’tween my heart and tongue | 
I have a man’s mind, but a woman’s might. 
How hard it is for women to keep counsel |!— 
Art thou here yet? 
LUCIUS.—Madam, what should I do? 
Run to the Capitol, and nothing else? 
And so return to you, and nothing else? 
PORTIA.—Yes, bring me word, boy, if thy lord look well, 
For he went sickly forth: and take good note 
What Cesar doth, what suitors press to him. 
Hark, boy! what noise is that? 
LUCIUS.—I hear none, madam. 
PORTIA.— Prithee, listen well; 
I heard a bustling rumour, like a fray, 
And the wind brings it from the Capitol.’’ 


Then, after the conversation with the soothsayer: 


‘*T must go in.—Ay me, how weak a thing 
The heart of woman is! O Brutus, 
The heavens speed thee in thine enterprise !— 
Sure, the boy heard me.—Brutus hath a suit, 
That Cesar will not grant.—O, I grow faint :— 
Run, Lucius, and commend me to my lord; 
Say, | am merry: come to me again, 
And bring me word what he doth say to thee.” 


All this feeling and acute anxiety she doubtless under- 
went; not, however, from sympathy with the motive and 
purpose of Brutus, though she believed in these as fully 


168 WOMAN 


as he did, but for sheer and simple love of her husband. 
By nature she was no stoic—as no true woman has ever 
been or can be; but she had trained herself in the estima- 
tion of self-control and dignified endurance as moral ex- 
cellences of the highest value. There were other women 
in Rome who, like Portia, had studied and adopted as 
their rule of life the principles of Zeno. We can see them 
walking amidst the frivolity of their times with the hauteur 
of too conscious superiority. It was a part which, if taken 
up by women at all, they must necessarily overdo. The 
principles of their philosophy might carry them far, even 
to death “‘after the high Roman fashion’’; but whether 
the stoicism was only a mask of pride or a real grandeur 
of character, there was always some point at which the 
woman’s heart showed itself. A man, whether bent on 
sentimental or serious purposes, needed not to stand 
greatly in awe of those stoical Roman ladies. 

School herself in dignified impassiveness as she might, 
every thought of Portia’s mind, as well as every impulse 
of her heart, betrayed her philosophy. Her affectionate 
solicitude allowed no sigh escaping the breast of her lord, 
no absent-mindedness clouding his brow and boding care, 
to escape her observation. It was plain to her that Brutus 
had some great trouble weighing upon his mind. She 
longed to share its knowledge, not for the gratification of 
curiosity, but because she could not endure to be deemed 
by her husband anything less than his loyal comrade. 
But was she worthy to be the custodian of her husband’s 
secrets? Doubtless she was assured that they related to 
State affairs. It was not the custom among the Romans 
to put freeborn women to the torture; yet Portia, before 
she would ask to know her husband’s mind, would test 
her power of enduring pain. Let Plutarch present the 
picture in his own fashion: 


WOMAN UNDER JULIUS CAESAR 169 


‘‘Now Brutus, feeling that the noblest spirits of Rome, 
for virtue, birth, or courage, were depending upon him, 
and surveying with himself all the circumstances of the 
dangers they were to encounter, strove indeed as much 
as possible, when abroad, to keep his uneasiness of mind 
to himself, and to compose his thoughts; but at home, and 
especially at night, he was not the same man, but some- 
times against his will his working care would make him 
start out of his sleep, and other times he was taken up 
with further reflection and consideration of his difficulties, . 
so that his wife that lay with him could not choose but 
take notice that he was full of unusual trouble, and had in 
agitation some dangerous and perplexing question. Portia, 
as was said before, was the daughter of Cato, and Brutus, 
her cousin-german, had married her very young, though 
not a maid, but after the death of a former husband. This 
Portia, being interested in philosophy, a great lover of her 
husband, and full of an understanding courage, resolved 
not to inquire into Brutus’s secrets before she had made 
trial of herself. She turned all her attendants out of her 
chamber; and taking a little knife, such as they use to 
cut nails with, she gave herself a deep gash in the thigh; 
upon which followed a great flow of blood, and, soon after, 
violent pains and a shivering fever, occasioned by the 
wound. Now when Brutus was exceedingly anxious and 
afflicted for her, she, in the height of her pain, spoke thus 
to him: ‘1, Brutus, being the daughter of Cato, was given to 
you in marriage, not like a concubine, to partake only in 
the common intercourse of bed and board, but to bear a 
part in all your good and all your evil fortunes; and for 
your part, as regards your care for me, | find no reason to 
complain; but from me, what evidence of my love, what 
satisfaction can you receive, if I may not share with you 
in bearing your hidden griefs, or be admitted to any of 


170 WOMAN 


your counsels that require secrecy and trust? I know 
very well that women seem to be of too weak a nature to 
be trusted with secrets; but surely, Brutus, a virtuous 
birth and education, and the company of the good and 
honorable, are of some force in the forming of manners; 
and I can boast that 1am the daughter of Cato and the 
wife of Brutus, in which two titles though before I put 
less confidence, yet now I have tried myself, and find | 
can bid defiance to pain.’ Having spoken these words, 
she showed him her wound, and related to him the trial she 
had made of her constancy; at which, being astonished, he 
lifted up his hands to heaven, and begged the assistance 
of the gods in his enterprise, that he might show himself 
a husband worthy of such a wife as Portia.’’ 

From that time, she shared the secret of Brutus in his 
direful purpose; moreover, her heart and mind were op- 
pressed with the added burden of anxiety for him. 

Another woman in Rome had once waited with great 
impatience while her husband thrust the ruler from his 
throne; and though the plot meant the death of her own 
father, Tullia could ride to the Senate chamber to ascer- 
tain with her own eyes if everything were in satisfactory 
progress. But there is no comparison to be drawn between 
Tullia and Portia. There is nothing to indicate that the 
latter was in the least stirred by ambition. She simply 
believed in her husband to the extent that if it were 
he who purposed assassination, she must deem it justi- 
fied. Yet she could not ask: ‘‘Is Cesar yet gone to the 
Capitol?’’ without danger of swooning. 

At the Imperator’s palace, there was another woman 
whose mind was troubled with dire misgivings, and who 
feared that which Portia impatiently awaited to hear was 
done. Calpurnia’s womanly instinct was quicker than 
the suspicion of Czsar and his friends. She was not 


WOMAN UNDER JULIUS CESAR 171 


given to superstitious fears; but now even the very air 
seemed portentous of coming disaster. She dreamed, and 
cried out in her sleep: ‘‘ They murder Cesar.”’ 

Thus has the great dramatist, in a manner which it 
would be folly to imitate or replace, depicted the scene: 


‘*CALPURNIA.—What mean you, Cesar? Think you to walk forth? 
You shall not stir out of your house to-day. 
CESAR.—Casar shall forth. The things that threaten’d me 
Ne’er look’d but on my back; when they shall see 
The face of Cesar, they are vanish’d. 
CALPURNIA.—Cesar, I never stood on ceremonies, 
Yet now they fright me. There is one within, 
Besides the things that we have heard and seen, 
Recounts most horrid sights seen by the watch. 
O Cesar! these things are beyond all use, 
And | do fear them. 
CSAR.— What can be avoided, 
Whose end is purpos’d by the mighty gods? 
Yet Cesar shall go forth; for these predictions 
Are to the world in general as to Cesar. 
CALPURNIA.-—When beggars die, there are no comets seen; 
The heavens themselves blaze forth the death of princes.’’ 


The wife is supported in her plea by the warnings of 
the augurs; and Cesar has decided to allow Mark Antony 
to say he is not well. But Decius, the false coward, 
comes, and for his private satisfaction, because Cesar 
loves him, he is told that: 


*‘Calpurnia here, my wife stays me at home: 
She dream’d to-night she saw my statua, 
Which, like a fountain with an hundred spouts, 
Did run pure blood; and many lusty Romans 
Came smiling, and did bathe their hands in it, 
And these does she apply for warnings and portents, 
And evils imminent; and on her knee 
Hath begg’d that I will stay at home to-day.”’ 


Decius easily puts a better interpretation upon the 
vision; and he changes Czesar’s mind by cunningly 


172 WOMAN 


suggesting how the Senate may sneer at being adjourned 
until ‘‘ another time, 


When Cesar’s wife shall meet with better dreams.”’ 


So he leaves her sadly to reflect that his ‘‘ death, a neces- 
sary end, 
Will come when it will come.” 


Of Calpurnia we learn nothing more save that her 
wisdom made her quick to place her husband’s papers in 
the hands of Mark Antony, who so successfully took upon 
himself the task of avenging the death of his friend. 

Portia fled from Italy with her husband, and it was well 
for her that she did so; for under the Triumvirate there 
was inaugurated a reign of terror which caused the people 
of Rome to recall the bloody proscriptions of Sylla, and in 
which the wife of Casar’s murderer would hardly have 
been secure. Hatred, greed, and all evil passions were 
let loose. It became easy for heirs to hasten to the pos- 
session of legacies by having the owners’ names placed 
on the lists of the proscribed. The toga was given to 
children, in order that their property, they being then 
considered of age, might come into their own possession; 
then they were condemned to death. 

During this reign of terror, the citizens of Rome were 
cowed by the soldiery into abject silence and inactivity; 
but, to their honor, it is recorded that the women did 
not suffer so resignedly the despoiling of their goods. A 
heavy contribution was levied upon fourteen hundred of 
the richest matrons. Led by Hortensia, the daughter 
of the orator, these ladies went to the Forum and ap- 
peared in the presence of the Triumvirate. Hortensia 
spoke. ‘‘ Before presenting ourselves before you,’’ she 
said. ‘we have solicited the intervention of Fulvia; her 


WOMAN UNDER JULIUS CAESAR 173 


refusal has obliged us to come hither. You have taken 
away our fathers, our children, our brothers, our hus- 
bands; to deprive us of our fortune also is to reduce us to 
a condition which befits neither our birth, nor our habits, 
nor our sex; it is to extend your proscriptions to us. But 
have we raised soldiers against you, or sought after your 
offices? Do we dispute the power for which you are 

fighting? From the time of Hannibal, Roman women have 
_ willingly given to the treasury their jewels and ornaments; 
let the Gauls or the Parthians come, and there will be 
found in us no less patriotism. But do not ask us to con- 
tribute to this fraticidal war which is rending the Repub- 
lic; neither Marius, nor Cinna, nor even Sylla during his 
tyranny, dared to do so.’’ The triumvirs were inclined 
to drive the matrons from the Forum; but the people 
began to be stirred, so they yielded and set forth another 
edict, reducing to four hundred the number of women who 
were to be taxed. 

Much of this cruelty was instigated by a woman whom 
Hortensia mentions. Antony, whose amatory experiences 
were as varied as they were numerous, was at one time 
engaged in an intrigue with Fulvia, then the wife of 
Clodius. She afterward became Antony’s wife. Here 
was a woman the exact opposite of Portia; a resentful, 
stubborn, masculine woman, ‘‘in whom,’’ says Velleius 
Paterculus, ‘‘ there was nothing feminine but her body.”’ 
It is told of her that when Cicero was murdered, his head 
was brought to her, and she drove her bodkin through 
the tongue which had so bitterly rated her and her hus- 
band. On another occasion, the head of one of the pro- 
scribed was brought to Antony. ‘‘I do not know it,’’ he 
said; ‘‘let it be taken to my wife.’’ It was the head of 
a citizen of whom nothing worse is known than that he — 
had refused to sell a farm which Fulvia desired to obtain. 


174, WOMAN 


? 


Plutarch relates that Antony was obliged to resort to all 
sorts of boyish tricks in order to keep Fulvia in good 
humor. Among other like stories which he says were 
current, he gives the following, relating to the triumvir’s 
sudden return to Rome: ‘‘ Disguising himself, he came to 
her by night, muffled up as a servant that brought letters 
from Antony. She, with great impatience, before she re- 
ceives the letter, asks if Antony were well, and instead of 
an answer he gives her the letter; and, as she was open- 
ing it, he takes her about the neck and kisses her.’’ The 
historian gives this characterization of Fulvia: ‘‘a woman 
not born for spinning or housewifery, nor one that could 
be content with ruling a private husband, but prepared to 
govern a first magistrate, or give orders to a commander- 
in-chief. So that Cleopatra was under great obligations 
to her for having taught Antony to be so good a servant, 
he coming to her hands tame and broken into entire 
obedience to the commands of a mistress.’’ Evidently, we 
must regard Mark Antony as being the great historical 
type of the ‘‘henpecked’’ husband; there is, however, no 
occasion for sympathy; his punishment was no greater 
than he deserved. The chief misfortune lay in the fact 
that Fulvia died, and thus made room for the noble and 
much-abused Octavia, whom he afterward married. 

Let us return to Portia. There is a beautiful incident 
related of her final parting from Brutus in the island of 
Nisida. She was overcome with grief, but refrained from 
showing it for fear that it might shake her husband’s 
fortitude. But in passing through a hall, a picture which 
she there saw accidentally betrayed her. It was a repre- 
sentation of Hector parting from Andromache when he 
went to engage the Greeks. He was in the act of giving 
his little son Astyanax into her arms, while she fixes her 
tearful eyes for the last time upon her husband. Portia 


WOMAN UNDER JULIUS CESAR 175 


could not look upon this piece, so suggestive of her own 
circumstances, without weeping; and every day, as long 
as she remained in the place, she went to gaze upon it. 
It was on one of those occasions that Acilius, a friend of 
Brutus, repeated from Homer the lines where Andromache 


speaks to Hector: 
‘** But, Hector, you 
To me are father and are mother too, 
My brother, and my loving husband true.’ ”’ 


Brutus, sadly smiling, replied, ‘‘ But I must not answer 
Portia, as Hector did Andromache: 


‘*** Mind you your loom, and to your maids give law.’ 


For though the natural weakness of her body hinders her 
from doing what only the strength of men can perform, 
yet she has a mind as valiant and as active for the good 
of her country as the best of us.’’ 

As to the time and manner of Portia’s death, the ancient 
writers are not fully agreed. But the best authenticated 
account is that which is thus represented by Shakespeare: 


‘*BRUTUS.—O Cassius ! I am sick of many griefs. 
CASSIUS.—Of your philosophy you make no use, 
If you give place to accidental evils. 
BRUTUS.—No man bears sorrow better; Portia is dead. 
CASSIUS.—Ha !—Portia ? 
BRUTUS.—She is dead. 
CASSIUS.—How ’scap’d | killing, when I cross’d you so? 
O insupportable and touching loss !— 
Upon what sickness ? 
BRUTUS.— Impatient of my absence, 
And grief that young Octavius with Mark Antony 
Had made themselves so strong ;—for with her death 
These tidings came.—With this she fell distract, 
And, her attendants absent, swallow’d fire.’’ 


In Portia and Brutus we see that close and mutual sym- 
pathy, than which marriage in any period of the world’s 


176 WOMAN 


history has nothing better to show. The ancient his- 
torians took great delight in eulogizing her character and 
praising her qualities. They are a unit in the belief that, 
in all points, she was worthy to be the consort of him 
whom Antony justly honored as ‘‘ The noblest Roman of 
them all.’’ 


Chapter Wit 
Che Roman GAoman in Politics 


Vil 


THE ROMAN WOMAN IN POLITICS 


IN the disordered conditions which followed the death 
of Czsar, the old Roman constitution lost what little force 
it had seemed to retain under the preceding dictators. 
The offices of the State remained the same in name, and 
were still supposed to be filled by men who were freely 
chosen by the people; but all were under the hand of a 
power which the Senate dared not resist, and in which the 
people, weary of the bloody contentions of the oligarchy, 
were willing to acquiesce so long as bread and games were 
forthcoming. This power was the army. Whosoever 
controlled the army found the interpretation of his own 
political rights not difficult. The forces of the Empire 
were in the hands of three men: Lepidus, who com- 
manded the legions which at the opportune moment were 
near Rome; Antony, who was the idol of the people; 
and the young Octavius, who stood on the vantage of 
his relationship to the great Caesar. These men divided 
the world among themselves; but, in the end, Octavius, 
by the steadiness of his mind, the fixity of his purpose, 
and the scope of his executive ability, won for himself the 
Empire. During the years of civil war and political turmoil 
which accompanied these changes, much in the Roman 
social construction which had hitherto been beneath found 


179 


180 WOMAN 


its way to the surface. It was a struggle in which any 
strength, skill, or art that enabled its possessor to best 
his fellows meant political advantage. Though deficient 
in strength, women, having a certain skill peculiar to 
their sex and being especially adapted to the practice 
of those arts by means of which political situations are 
managed from behind the scenes, became much more 
influential in State affairs than formerly. Their promi- 
nence grew as the government narrowed down from the 
free Senate to the person of the emperor. Women have 
always been powerful in a monarchical or an imperial 
court, but have never enjoyed any notable political rights 
in a republic. 

The period which we are now studying is rich in the 
names of women who, standing around Cesar’s throne, 
often found means to further or thwart the designs of its 
occupant. Among them we may select Livia, not for the 
dignity of her character or the ability of her mind,— 
though she was not lacking in either of these qualities, 
—but because of her position as the Augusta and her 
long life, she, better than any other, serves to represent 
the women who were influential in Roman public affairs. 
Though if Fulvia had lived and Antony had been discreet, 
Rome might have been governed by a woman, and Fulvia 
instead of Livia would have been the type we should have 
chosen. While her husband was following Cleopatra to 
Egypt, a prisoner to her fascinations, Fulvia had control 
of the consuls and was making war against Octavius. If 
this ambitious, strong-minded woman, who held reviews 
of the troops with a sword at her side, had been pos- 
sessed of sufficient funds, Octavius might never have 
won the purple; but the only means by which the army 
could be held were wasted by her husband in monstrous 
extravagances. . Defeated in her schemes through the 


THE ROMAN WOMAN IN POLITICS 181 


non-coéperation of her husband, Fulvia became ill through 
vexation and shame, and died about B.C. 39. 

Livia possessed an entirely different character from that 
which dominated Fulvia; yet, being of the Claudian race,— 
that family which, as Niebuhr says, ‘‘in all ages distin- 
guished itself alike by a spirit of haughty defiance, by 
disdain for the laws, and iron hardness of heart,’’—it 
would have been strange if Livia had not made her influ- 
ence felt in the house of Cesar and to the sorrow of those 
who stood in her way. When Livia first met Octavius, 
she was eighteen years old and the wife of Tiberius 
Claudius Nero, a man probably much older than herself. 
The varying aspects of the Civil War made it difficult for 
a man who sought before all things his own security to 
know which cause to support. II luck seemed to prompt 
Claudius Nero in his choice; first he threw in his lot with 
Brutus and Cassius, though he was indebted to Cesar for 
many favors; then, after the defeat of these, he joined 
Antony against Augustus. The consequence was that he 
spent much time in the endeavor to rectify his mistakes of 
policy by fleeing from one commander to another. In all 
these journeyings and adventures his wife accompanied 
him, carrying with her their young child Tiberius, who 
was destined to become Emperor of Rome. At times 
she was exposed to great danger; for instance, in Lacede- 
mon, during an escape by night from their enemies, the 
forest through which they were passing was on fire, and 
her hair and clothing were scorched by the flames. Clau- 
dius Nero succeeded in gaining a pardon from Octavius, 
and he and his wife returned to Rome. Whether this 
grace resulted from the representations he made in his 
own defence, or from the interest excited by Livia in the 
mind of Octavius, history does not inform us; but cer- 
tain conclusions are unavoidable, inasmuch as Octavius 


182 WOMAN 


compelled Claudius Nero to divorce his wife so that he 
himself might marry her. 

In order that this marriage might take place, a double 
divorce was necessary; for Octavius was already united 
to Scribonia, by whom he had a daughter, Julia, the only 
child that was ever born to him. He had married Scri- 
bonia for purposes of political expediency. At the time of 
his marriage he was only twenty-three years old, while his 
bride was his senior by many years and had already lost 
two husbands by death. The object of this marriage was 
to win for Octavius the support of Libo, the brother of 
Scribonia, and through him his son-in-law Sextus Pom- 
peius, who was a man of great influence. This purpose 
being served, the young ruler found himself at the same 
time secure in his position and tired of the marital alliance 
which he had formed for the sake of that security. He 
alleged perversity of character and incompatibility of tem- 
perament—the only charges he could prefer—in Scribonia, 
and sent her a letter of separation only a few days after 
his child had been born. 

‘* By this act,’’ says Adolf Stahr, as quoted by S. Baring 
Gould, ‘‘ Octavius himself strewed the seeds of discord 
which were to disturb fatally the concord of the impe- 
rial family, not only during his own life, but far beyond 
it. Scribonia would have been no woman not to have 
felt deadly hatred toward that woman in whom she saw 
the robber of her honor, the wrecker of her happiness, the 
overthrower of her ambition, and by means of whom a 
new family forced its way into that place which should 
have been hers and usurped her claims and her hopes. 
As the mother of Julia, the only daughter of the sovereign, 
as the ancestress of Julia’s children and grandchildren, 
she remained, in spite of the separation, the head of the 
Julian race, the dynasty called to sovereignty. No wonder, 


THE ROMAN WOMAN IN POLITICS 183 


then, that henceforth she stood in hostile opposition to the 
Claudian Livia and her two children. This deadly ani- 
mosity between the two family branches of the imperial 
house was reflected more than two generations later in the 
memoirs of the great-grandchild of Scribonia, the second 
Agrippina, wife of the Emperor Claudius, and mother of 
Nero, the source whence, poisoned as it was with fiercest 
hate toward Livia and her son, the Emperor Tiberius, 
Tacitus drew the colors with which he painted both one 
and the other in his Annals.”’ 

There is good ground for believing that the marriage of 
Octavius and Livia was a love match. Though the new 
bride was descended from one of the most aristocratic and 
powerful families of Rome, her relatives were not espe- 
cially prominent at that time; so it would seem that the 
triumvir’s regard for her was not regulated by the calcula- 
tions of expediency. Livia possessed not only beauty, but 
also the character of mind which was likely to charm a 
man with the disposition of Octavius. She was quick 
to understand and appreciate his intelligent purposes and 
far-reaching achievements. There was between the two 
that sympathy which is the absolute requisite of a happy 
marriage. 

As to Livia’s personal attractions, Ovid assures us that 
she had the features of Venus and the manners of Juno. 
Making not a little allowance for the flattery made neces- 
sary by the position of the courtier, and some for the 
license of the poet, we may still believe that the wife of 
the first emperor was a very beautiful woman. There 
are yet in existence a great many representations of her. 
She was the first Roman woman to have her face dis- 
played upon the coin of the realm; but we cannot accept 
these images as portraits, though they bear her name. 
There is one Roman medal, however, which represents 


184 WOMAN 


Livia in old age; consequently, we may safely consider 
it as authentic. No picture of the youthful loveliness 
which captivated Octavius has been preserved; but there 
is in the Louvre a magnificent statue which represents 
Livia as the goddess Ceres. There is much character in 
the face, and there is a sufficient resemblance to Tiberius 
to authorize the belief that it really portrays his mother. 
The form and features are those of a matron on the de- 
clining side of thirty. The figure is majestic, possibly 
made more so than the original for reasons complimentary 
to the divinity; yet it seems to justify Ovid’s account 
of the Juno-like manners of the Augusta. The charm of 
youthful beauty has not yet deserted the face. The eyes, 
so far as can be judged from the cold, colorless marble, 
were lustrous and large; the mouth, with its short upper 
lip, was capable of both power and variety of expression, 
and doubtless aided Livia to obtain her will of Augustus as 
much by its silent eloquence as by its articulate enuncia- 
tion. To the slight arch of the Roman nose she of course 
could claim a national right. 

Three months after her marriage to Octavius, Livia gave 
birth to her second son. On this occasion, Caesar wrote 
in his journal: ‘‘ To-day my wife bore me a boy, whom I 
caused to be sent to his father Nero.’’ But Nero dying 
soon afterward, and having in his will left this child—who 
was named Drusus—and also the latter’s brother Tiberius 
to the guardianship of Octavius, the children were again 
restored to Livia and trained as the sons of her imperial 
husband. 

Livia’s marriage with Octavius, whatever may be said 
of the circumstances under which it was brought about, 
was a happy one. For fifty-two years they lived together, 
a period ending only with Octavius’s death; and upon her 
character as a wife there was never cast, even by those 


THE ROMAN WOMAN IN POLITICS 185 


whose hatred she excited, the slightest reflection. In the 
midst of a corrupt and luxurious society, she lived in ac- 
cordance with those chaste and simple principles which 
governed the matrons of the early Republic. It is said that 
her husband commonly wore clothing which was wrought 
by the hands of his wife and the other female members of 
his family. While, however, the house of Octavius was 
conducted after the old-fashioned method, Livia was by no 
means such a political nonentity as had been the matron 
of ancient times. She was obedient to her husband, and 
in all things subservient to his wishes, even going so far— 
if Suetonius is to be credited in the matter—as to more 
than condone his wandering inclinations of an amorous 
nature. Livia knew how to manage the first man who 
was able to capture and hold the government of the Roman 
Empire. Her tact and good sense, conjoined with his affec- 
tion, enabled her to wield an influence over the emperor 
which had its effect in the weightiest affairs of State. Her 
counsel was usually in the interest of kindness and for- 
bearance; more than once, when he was inclined to exer- 
cise severity in the punishment of his enemies, she won 
him to gentler methods. That he frequently sought her 
advice in important political matters, we know; and it 
is on record that sometimes, when he wished to consult 
her on subjects of grave moment, he would first write 
out that which he desired to say, in order that he might 
present his ideas as clearly and correctly as possible. 
The picture given us of Livia by the ancient historians 
is of a double and somewhat inconsistent character. The 
wife of Augustus was a model of uprightness and honor; 
the empress shown us by Tacitus as seeking to bring 
to pass her own designs in regard to the succession was 
heartless and unprincipled. Here are the conclusions 
drawn by Merivale, and they form a verdict in which 


186 WOMAN 


probably most students of Roman history will agree: ‘‘In 
her second home, she directed all her arts to securing her 
position, and became, perhaps, in no long course of time, 
as consummate a dissembler and intriguer as Octavius 
himself. While, indeed, she seconded him in his efforts 
to cajole the Roman people, she was engaged, not less 
successfully, in cajoling him. Her elegant manners, in 
which she was reputed to exceed the narrow limits allowed 
by fashion and opinion to the Roman matrons, proved no 
less fascinating to him than her beauty. Her intellect 
was undoubtedly of a high order; and when her personal 
charms failed to enchain his roving inclinations, she was 
content with the influence she still continued to hold over 
his understanding. The sway she acquired over him in the 
first transports of courtship she retained without change or 
interruption to the day of his death.’’ 

Before we turn our attention to the history of Livia’s 
efforts to secure the succession for her son Tiberius, let us 
fill out the picture in which she stands by placing in it 
some of the noted women by whom she was surrounded. 
First and foremost, there is Octavia, the half-sister of 
Cesar Augustus. For this noble woman the ancient 
writers have nothing but the most enthusiastic praise. 
Plutarch briefly describes her as a ‘‘ wonder of a woman.”’ 
Fortunately, we know more of her than is expressed in 
that superlative phrase. Her mother’s name was Atia, 
and she was a few years older than Octavius. The his- 
torian above quoted claims for her so much beauty that 
she did not suffer in that respect in comparison with 
her great Egyptian rival, Cleopatra; but the figures of her 
which are extant hardly support the claim. Nor was she 
clever like Cleopatra; indeed, she had little to recommend 
her except her relationship with the powerful Octavius, 
her sterling goodness, and the sweet amiability of her 


THE ROMAN WOMAN IN POLITICS 187 


character. For this reason her marriage to Antony was 
as great a failure in the purpose for which it was intended 
—the winning of the triumvir from his infatuation—as it 
was a misfortune to herself. That a woman like Octavia 
should be united to such a man as Mark Antony did not 
seem to the ancients such a tragedy as it appears to us; 
and probably the sister of Octavius endured with an un- 
concern incomprehensible to us the knowledge that her 
husband had been the lover of many women, some even 
of the most abandoned sort. 

For a while, Octavia did exercise a restraining influence 
over her wayward husband; and though she could not 
gird on a sword and harangue the legions, as did Fulvia, 
more than once by her prudence and good sense she helped 
Antony materially in his time of need. It also seems that 
while his wife was by his side he was able to withstand 
any propensity that was in him to go down into Egypt. 
Plutarch recounts that Antony having a misunderstanding 
with Octavius, the two were about to oppose their forces 
in civil strife at Tarentum. Octavia, however, obtained 
leave of her husband to visit the camp of her brother; 
‘and as she was on her way she met Cesar, with his 
two friends Agrippa and Mzcenas, and, taking these two 
aside, with urgent entreaties and much lamentation she 
told them that from being the most fortunate woman 
upon earth she was in danger of becoming the most un- 
happy; for as yet everyone’s eyes were fixed upon her 
as the wife and sister of the two great commanders, but, 
if rash counsels should prevail, and war ensue, ‘I shall be 
miserable,’ said she, ‘without redress; for on what side 
soever victory falls, I shall be sure to be a loser.’”’ 
Czesar was overcome by these entreaties, and advanced 
in a peaceable temper to Tarentum, where he was enter- 
tained by Antony. ‘‘And when at length an agreement 


188 WOMAN 


was made between them . . . Octavia further ob- 
tained of her husband twenty light ships for her brother, 
and of her brother a thousand foot for her husband. So, 
having parted good friends, Cassar went immediately to 
make war with Pompey to conquer Sicily,’’ and Antony 
repaired to Syria, where he once more met the Egyptian 
queen; and from this infatuation Octavia was never again 
able to win him. 

Yet this admirable woman did not cease to fulfil her part 
as a dutiful and helpful wife. When her husband returned 
from his disastrous expedition against the Parthians, having 
lost a great part of his forces and all his supplies, he re- 
ceived a message from Octavia asking where she might 
meet him. The answer received by her was a peremptory 
and unfeeling command not to proceed further than Athens, 
as he was about to start on a new expedition. Displeased 
though she was, being fully aware of the cause wherefore 
she was not welcome, she wrote again, asking to know 
to what place she should send the soldiers, money, and 
presents she had brought for his use. 

On her return to Rome, Ceasar, incensed at the treat- 
ment his sister had received, commanded her to leave 
Antony’s house and repudiate all further connection with 
him. This she steadfastly refused to do. She continued 
to live in her husband’s house until she was obliged to 
leave by his own command. Then she took with her own 
children those of Fulvia; and after the death of Antony, 
she even welcomed to her home the daughter which had 
been born to him by her Egyptian rival, and it was im- 
possible for the Romans to perceive that she gave less 
motherly care to the young Cleopatra than she bestowed 
upon her own offspring. 

Judging by what we know of her, no age has produced 
a more beautiful character than that of Octavia. In her 


THE ROMAN WOMAN IN POLITICS 189 


were exemplified the fairest of those qualities which are 
especially inculcated by the principles of Christianity. 
Goodness, long-suffering, forbearance, and gentleness: 
these were exhibited in her life to a degree which after 
ages refused to believe possible under paganism; which 
goes to show that the idea that the noblest graces of char- 
acter could not ripen previous to the present era is an 
unwarranted assumption. It arises from the fact that in 
the accounts we have of the ancient world there is more 
said of the exercise and the consequences of violent pas- 
sions and human depravity than there is of pure love and 
kindly forbearance; but this may be accounted for by the 
well-attested axiom that peaceful lives furnish no history. 
If Octavia, living in the very centre of all the varied influ- 
ences which fomented around the Palatine Hill, could main- 
tain a pure and noble character, we may be very sure 
that the women who followed her example in the humbler 
walks of life were not so few as the Pagan satirists and 
the Christian apologists combine in leading us to suppose. 

There is no record of Octavia’s having taken part in 
any of those activities by which Livia and other feminine 
members of the Czsarian household endeavored to affect 
the course of political events. When all hope of there 
being any male issue of Augustus to inherit his rule was 
abandoned, the chance that Octavia’s son by her first 
husband would be the next emperor seemed to become 
a certainty. Of her bereavement in his death we will 
speak later on. As the women with which this chapter 
deals were all of one family, and consequently were at 
home under the same roof, and, moreover, as the art of 
building had at this time attained its perfection at Rome, 
it will enable us to form a better picture of the life of 
these women if we see them in the house, their peculiar 
sphere. 


190 WOMAN 


About the time that Augustus married Livia, he built 
for himself a new residence. The Domus Augustana was 
erected on the Palatine Hill, and from the fact that this 
site was adopted for the imperial abode the magnificent 
structures reared upon it were called palaces; thus a word 
of differentiation was provided for the dwelling houses of 
the rulers. Livia’s palace was not a large building, judging 
from what was considered necessary at a time when rich 
families were served by hundreds of slaves; but Livia was 
married to a man who was quite willing to have others of 
a lower rank outstrip him in extravagant living, so long as 
he had the power to decide whether or not it were best 
for the interests of the State that they be allowed to live 
at all; and as the Augusta had some influence in these 
decisions, she may have been able contentedly to visit 
the wife of Mzcenas, who lived in a house of far greater 
magnificence than her own. As the better class of Roman 
abodes were all constructed after the same general plan, 
it is not difficult, in imagination, out of the materials of 
information which we possess, to reérect upon its ruins, 
which still exist, the Domus Augustana. 

The portico which adorned the outside extended the 
whole length of the front of the house, and possibly 
around the sides. It was a colonnade of native traver- 
tine—some of the later occupants of the imperial throne 
were hardly satisfied with the costliest marble. The ves- 
tibule was a large apartment, which was always freely 
open to clients and callers. The Salve inscribed or worked 
in mosaic upon the threshold of the outer door expressed 
the generous hospitality which characterized all Roman 
dwellings of that time. From the vestibule another door 
led to the atrium, the most important room in the house. 
It was large, and decorated with all the splendor which the 
wealth of the owner could warrant, and with such beauty 


THE ROMAN WOMAN IN POLITICS I9l 


as his taste might dictate. It was roofed, with the excep- 
tion of an opening in the centre, called the compluvium, 
through which was admitted the rain water into a cistern 
in the floor. In the early times the atrium was the com- 
mon room of the family, and in it were carried on the 
domestic occupations presided over by the mistress of 
the house, but in the days of Livia it was the audience 
chamber of the owner. The walls of this apartment were 
highly decorated with landscape paintings, or else lined 
with beautiful marbles. Some of the paintings which 
covered the walls of the Domus Augustana have been 
preserved, and in the great spaces through which they 
were seen their brilliant colors must have been very 
effective. 

Opening from the atrium was the fablinum; here were 
the family archives, the statues, pictures, and other ances- 
tral relics. Around these great apartments were smaller 
chambers, which were commonly used for the lodging of 
guests, though it is probable that Livia’s establishment 
included a house set apart for this purpose. Behind the 
apartments we have described, and reached through fauces, 
Or narrow passages, was the real interior and private por- 
tion of the palace. First there came the peristyle. This 
was a large, oblong court, open to the sky in the middle 
and surrounded by a colonnade of polished marble pillars. 
The centre of this court was filled with shrubs and flowers, 
grown in great boxes of earth; and the beauty and comfort 
of this charming ‘‘ drawing room’’ were enhanced by the 
cool fountains of water with which Rome was so bounti- 
fully supplied. Here was Livia’s forum. Here was the 
fitting stage where she displayed those gifts of mind and 
graces of person which never lost their potent influence 
with her husband and gave her title of Augusta a real 
political significance. 


192 WOMAN 


Opening from the peristyle was the /riclinium, or dining 
hall. It was here that the extravagance of the Romans 
was especially exhibited. In La Palais de Scaurus, by 
Mazois, there is a pen picture of a ¢riclinitum, every detail 
of which is authenticated by ancient authorities. It reveals 
a luxury and a disregard of expense to which our day fur- 
nishes no parallel. But the banquet hall of the Augustan 
house was not equipped in so costly a fashion; there was 
still cherished some remembrance of the ancient Sabine 
simplicity. 

In addition to the apartments mentioned, there were 
spacious halls and salons used for such purpose as that 
of a picture gallery or a library. The bed chambers were 
usually placed between the outer walls of the house and 
the more important rooms; the only remarkable features 
about them were their smallness and inconvenience. There 
was an upper story, which was used principally for sleep- 
ing apartments, and probably there were no windows 
opening to the street except on this second floor. The 
rear part of the house was given up to the kitchen, the 
bakery, and the mill for grinding flour. Above all, in a 
literal and also commendatory sense of the word, was 
the solarium. This was a delightful retreat on the roof, 
furnished with plants, flowers, and fountains. 

It was to such an abode as this that Livia came, and 
there brought her influence to bear on one of the most 
brilliant epochs of the world’s history. After her repudia- 
tion by Antony, Octavia and her children also came to 
reside at the Domus Augustana; and there lived also the 
little Julia, the daughter of Scribonia and Octavius. 

How early in her career Livia commenced laying her 
plans for the succession of her son to the imperial rule, we 
do not know; nor is there any certainty as to the extent 
of her culpability in carrying them out. It is most likely 


THE ROMAN WOMAN IN POLITICS 193 


that her hope that she might bear a son to Augustus who 
would have an indisputable claim to the heritage allowed 
her at first to view with complacency the already existing 
putative but more removed successors. Time wore on, and 
her expectations failed of realization. Her sons, Tiberius 
and Drusus, were growing up, and both were manifesting 
those qualities which showed them worthy of taking the 
reins of government. The habit of exercising an influence 
in the affairs of State, through the confidence placed in 
her by her husband, made the prospect of having to relin- 
quish that power, in the event of the death of Augustus, 
constantly more intolerable; but the woman who was called 
‘*a female Ulysses ’’ was likely to win her way. 

Julia, though the only child born in the purple, might 
not inherit the imperial sceptre, being a woman. But 
Octavia had a son of her first marriage, named Marcellus, 
of whom Augustus was especially fond. While he was 
but a youth of seventeen, Julia, then fourteen years old, 
was given to him in marriage; and thus it was hoped the 
succession would be continued by means of the union of 
the daughter and the nephew of the emperor. These 
anticipations were doomed to disappointment, as Marcellus 
died shortly after the marriage. One historian, Dion Cas- 
sius, informs us that it was whispered about that Livia 
was responsible for the death of Julia’s husband, being 
jealous because Czsar heaped upon him favors which 
were denied to her own sons; but, while relating this, the 
historian claims that it was a groundless accusation. How- 
ever, we have it on the authority of so trustworthy a wit- 
ness as Seneca that Octavia, in this sad bereavement, for 
once was unworthy ot herself. He says that ‘‘she turned 
to hate all mothers, and the angry passion of her sorrow 
was directed principally against Livia, because that now 
the hope and prospects that had belonged to her own son 


194 WOMAN 


’ 


were transferred to the son of Livia.’’ Such unreasoning 
grief in this otherwise noble woman was a mark of common 
human frailty; but it does not present so pleasing a picture 
as that memorable scene in which Virgil, at the command 
of Augustus, read before Octavia the sixth book of his 
eneid, in which he has commemorated Marcellus. Grief- 
stricken and dejected as she was, Octavia probably gave 
but little attention to the opening lines; but her interest 
was aroused as the poet proceeded to describe AEneas’s 
visit to the under world, where dwelt those who had been 
dearest to her, and whither she knew herself to be rapidly 
tending. When she heard the lines— 


‘* This youth, the blissful vision of a day, 
Shall just be shown on earth, then snatched away,” 


she was startled by the description of her own son, and, 
hiding her face, she burst into tears; and when the poet 
uttered the words ‘‘7u Marcellus eris,’’ which he had 
wisely withheld to the end of the passage, she could en- 
dure no more and swooned because of the intensity of 
her sorrowful emotion. The information that she ordered 
Virgil to be presented with ten thousand sesterces for every 
line of the passage relating to her son is interesting, but 
does not add particularly to the beauty of the scene. 
Shortly after this, occurred her death. Augustus caused 
certain public buildings which he was at this time erecting 
to be dedicated in honor of his sister. 

Now that Julia was married, she was freed to some 
extent from that severe discipline in which Augustus 
deemed it necessary to bring up the girls of his family. 
Her training had been very strict. She had even been 
obliged, at a time when other girls of far inferior birth 
were perfecting themselves in more fashionable accom- 
plishments, to assist her aunt and her stepmother in 


THE ROMAN WOMAN IN POLITICS 195 


spinning wool for her father’s clothes. She was denied 
any freedom of intercourse with the youths of her own 
age. Augustus once wrote to a young nobleman: ‘‘ You 
have not behaved with proper respect in paying a visit to 
my daughter at Baiz.’’ But natural inclination, always 
stronger than discipline in determining the direction of 
a moral career, led Julia into evil courses. For many 
years, however, her father saw nothing less innocent in 
her conduct than that wit and gayety of spirit which he 
easily condoned. She well knew how to turn the edge 
of the mild rebukes of a fond parent. On one occasion, 
seeing her surrounded at a public exhibition by a num- 
ber of the young fashionables of the city, and noticing 
that she did not maintain that dignity of deportment 
which he thought becoming in the daughter of an em- 
peror, Augustus wrote her a letter expressing his dis- 
pleasure and holding up before her the example of Livia, 
who encouraged in her company none but ‘‘ grave and 
reverend signiors.’’? Julia had a ready reply; this was 
the note scribbled on a tablet and sent back to her father: 
‘«These young men will also have become old fogies by 
the time I am an old woman.’’ One day, later in her 
life, her father found a slave engaged in plucking the 
gray hairs from his daughter’s head. This operation sud- 
denly ceased on his entrance, and he feigned not to have 
noticed it. Then he asked abruptly: ‘‘ Julia, which would 
you rather be—gray or bald?’’ ‘‘ Why, father, gray, of 
course.’’ ‘You little liar,’’ replied Augustus, ‘‘see here,’’ 
and he held up some of the gray hairs which had fallen 
on her dressing gown. 

Shortly after the death of Marcellus, Julia was again 
married, this time to the great warrior Agrippa, the staunch 
friend of her father. This also was distinctly a political 
marriage. Julia was eighteen, Agrippa was forty-two, 


196 WOMAN 


while at the time of betrothal he was already wedded to 
Marcella, the daughter of Octavia. The usual divorce 
severed these bonds, and Marcella was given to Antonius, 
the son of the triumvir. Both Octavia and Scribonia were 
desirous of this matrimonial readjustment. They proba- 
bly saw that Julia needed a firm disciplinarian like Agrippa 
to keep the questionable proclivities of her character from 
attaining too exuberant a freedom. It is also likely that 
they hoped that this union would result in heirs who 
would frustrate the expectations of Livia and her sons. 
But to their check thus played, Livia, in due time, an- 
swered with a decisive mate. To Julia and Agrippa there 
were born three sons and one daughter, named respect- 
ively Lucius, Caius, Agrippa Posthumus, and Julia. Thus 
Tacitus relates the denouement: ‘‘ Augustus had adopted 
Lucius and Caius into the Czesarian family; and although 
they had not yet laid aside the puerile garment, his ambi- 
tion was strong to see them declared princes of the Roman 
youth, and even mentioned for the consulship; at the same 
time, he affected to decline these honors for them. Upon 
the death of Agrippa, they were cut off, either by a de- 
cease premature but natural, or by the arts of their step- 
mother Livia: Lucius on his journey to the armies in Spain, 
Caius on his return from Armenia, ill of a wound. And as 
Drusus had been long since dead, Tiberius Nero was the 
only surviving stepson. On him every honor was ac- 
cumulated, he was adopted by Augustus as his son anda 
colleague in the Empire, . . . and this was brought 
about, not by the secret machinations of his mother, as 
heretofore, but at her open suit. For over Augustus, now 
aged, she had obtained such absolute sway that he had 
banished his only surviving grandson, Agrippa Posthumus, 
a person of clownish brutality, with great bodily strength, 
but convicted of no heinous offence.’’ 


THE ROMAN WOMAN IN POLITICS 197 


Julia had by this time worked out her own condemna- 
tion. Those stories of her flagrant misconduct which for 
years had been part of the common gossip of the baths 
and porticoes of the city at last reached the ears of her 
father. He tried not to believe them. Gazing fondly 
upon his only child, he said: ‘‘ Just like her I am sure that 
Claudia must have looked, of whom our forefathers told 
that she was slandered. But she proved her innocence.’’ 
Those to whom he said this listened respectfully; but 
behind his back they sneered. After Agrippa’s death, 
Julia had made another political marriage. Tiberius had 
been compelled to put away his wife, Vipsania, the daugh- 
ter of Agrippa, whom he dearly loved,—she was probably 
the only human being for whom this morose man ever had 
any real affection,—and was forced, much against his will, 
to replace her by Agrippa’s widow. Tiberius knew Julia 
as her father did not; and, rather than live with her, he 
betook himself to a voluntary exile in Rhodes. By thus 
doing, he seemed to frustrate all his mother’s plans for 
his advancement; but she, with deadly persistency, deter- 
mined that there should be in Cesar’s family no other 
candidate for the imperial position, which must soon be 
vacated. There is some hint of Julia’s misdoings coming 
to light through the discovery of a plot, in which Livia had 
no part, to shorten the emperor’s days; but there is no 
proof, nor does it seem probable, that Julia was a con- 
spirator against her father’s life. She was probably the 
tool of others. Augustus, however, was constrained to 
institute an investigation, which revealed to him all the 
turpitude of his daughter’s conduct; she was banished to 
an island in the Bay of Naples, and there strictly guarded 
until the day of her death. 

The case of Julia gives no occasion for pity) except for the 
gray-haired old man who had lost by death all those upon 


198 WOMAN 


whom he had rested his ambitious hopes for the future of 
his house. None were left save Livia,—probably Augustus 
himself never for a moment entertained a suspicion that his 
wife was the cause of his misfortunes,—Tiberius, whom he 
never loved, and this woman, whom he wished had died in 
her infancy. And yet the edge is taken from any sympathy 
one might have for Augustus, when it is remembered that, 
notwithstanding his stern demand for chastity on the part 
of the women of his own family and all of noble birth, his 
own conduct, if Suetonius reports truthfully, was no better 
than that of his daughter. But to condemn licentiousness 
in their women and to practise it themselves did not seem 
to the men of Rome to be either illogical or inconsistent. 

Julia represented the prevalent social conditions of her 
time. Licentiousness, like a cancer, was eating into the 
heart of Roman society; and this was to grow still worse. 
It must be admitted also that female degeneracy kept pace 
with the increase of woman’s influence in the political 
world. Livia and Agrippina the Elder were exceptions; 
but the rule was, and has been in all history, that the 
activity of women in State affairs was accompanied by an 
abundance of meretricious amatory intrigues. It is a re- 
markable fact that in the history of the Roman woman— 
and possibly this statement might be given a much wider 
application—there is no instance where any individual 
woman designedly helped to bring about the enactment of 
a law for the public weal. Female politics always had for 
their object the advancement of the female politician’s 
own personal interests or those of some male favorite. 
And women could never have favorites outside their own 
families with safety to their honor. Whenever women 
have sought high favors either from men or for men, their 
personal charms have ever been their principal argument 
and illicit love their chief inducement. 


THE ROMAN WOMAN IN POLITICS 199 


One of the most radical of the early changes made in 
the Roman constitution was brought about by the piqued 
vanity of a woman. Fabius Ambustus, a man of power 
and renown in the ancient Republic, had two daughters. 
One of them was married to a patrician named Sulpicius, 
while the other was espoused to Stolo, a plebeian tribune. 
This office was the highest to which at the time a man of 
plebeian birth could lawfully aspire. One day the wife 
of Stolo, being at her sister’s house, was startled by the 
sound of the lictor’s staff at the door—a mode of announce- 
ment to which plebeian ears were unaccustomed. Being 
laughed at by Sulpicia, she went to her own home in high 
dudgeon, and henceforth neither Fabius Ambustus nor 
Stolo could gain any relief from her complaints until they 
had brought it to pass that the Senate consented to the con- 
ferring of magisterial office upon plebeians, with the conse- 
quence that her husband also might be attended by a lictor 
with his axe and rods. The story is important because 
it illustrates the greater portion of the Roman woman’s 
interest in politics. 

Livia was now the sole woman of influence in the im- 
perial palace. Scribonia had voluntarily accompanied her 
daughter into exile; and the daughter of Julia, who had 
inherited both her mother’s name and her failings, was 
banished from the city. It was not difficult now for Livia 
to secure the adoption of Tiberius by Augustus as his son 
and also as his heir. This, however, was not done without 
causing some misgivings in the minds of the Romans, who, 
as Tacitus says, feared to be under bondage to a woman 
‘‘with the ungovernable spirit peculiar to her sex.’’ 

On the nineteenth of August, A.D. 14, Livia and the 
intimate friends of Augustus were gathered around the em- 
peror’s deathbed. ‘‘ Tell me,’’ said the great emperor, 
“‘have I played well my part?’’ Posterity has never 


200 WOMAN 


questioned the nature or the truth of their answer. Then 
he said: ‘‘Let all applaud and clap their hands.’’ His 
last words, which throw more light on the character of 
this great woman than all the good and bad that is said 
of her, were: ‘‘ Livia! live mindful of our union; and now, 
farewell.’’ | 

The Augusta had sent urgent messengers to recall her 
son; and she caused the people to be kept in ignorance 
of the true condition of her husband until the news of his 
death and of the succession of Tiberius could be announced 
at the same time. But, although she had labored so per- 
sistently, and, if the historians are correct, so unscrupu- 
lously, for the accession of her son, with the death of 
Augustus, Livia’s power also came to an end. Tiberius 
was impatient of any female interference, even that of 
his mother. She was made priestess of the deified Augus- 
tus; but Tiberius declared that public honors should be ad- 
judged to women with extreme moderation, and he refused 
to allow a lictor to be appointed for her service. Still, 
after a fashion of his own, he treated her with the greatest 
respect until the day of her death; and he always allowed 
her politic counsels to have considerable weight in his 
decisions, well aware that no one else would so jealously 
guard his interests. 

There is one incident which redounds to the credit of 
Tiberius, whose sadly damaged reputation needs every- 
thing that can be said in his favor, and which is worth 
noticing because it not only illustrates his manner of 
dealing with the imperious Augusta, but also indicates the 
kind of purposes for which the political power of influential 
women was exercised. Livia, presuming on her position, 
demanded that Piso should be punished for insulting her 
by suing Urgulania, one of her favorites, for the payment 
of money which was clearly due to him. Tiberius refused 


THE ROMAN WOMAN IN POLITICS 201 


SO unjust a request, but gave his mother to understand 
that no less a person than himself would plead her cause 
before the judges. He fulfilled his word by loitering so 
long on his way to the court that by the time he reached 
it the judges had awarded the claimant his right, so that 
the empress found no way open by which she could save 
her friend except by paying the money herself. 

Livia’s old age was embittered to herself, and still more 
discredited with many of her contemporaries, by a new 
phase of the old feud which had for so long rent the impe- 
rial family. Agrippina, the daughter of Julia and Agrippa, 
had been married to Germanicus, the son of Antonia and 
the elder Drusus. In the wedded life of these two was 
exemplified an excellence of conjugal union that was almost 
perfect. Germanicus was a brave and able soldier and a 
man whose moral character was far superior to the stand- 
ard of his time. Agrippina was a woman whose purity of 
life was worthy of the principles which guided the matrons 
of the ancient Republic, but whose disposition would not 
permit her to relinquish any privilege which was open 
to the women of the new times and warranted by her 
position. 

Livia’s grudge against Agrippina seems to have been a 
continuation of the old discord between the Claudian and 
the Julian branches of the governing house. Each of these 
women had her adherents, who by their machinations and 
recriminations made peace an utter stranger in the impe- 
rial palace. Livia, however, possessed a threefold advan- 
tage over Agrippina: the latter was precluded by her nature 
from adopting against an enemy any nefarious design—a 
scruple of which history has been able to discover no trace 
in the conduct of the former lady; the Augusta was strongly 
supported in her dislike by the Emperor Tiberius; and 
Agrippina was away from Rome a great part of the time. 


202 WOMAN 


She elected to accompany her husband, even on his most 
dangerous expeditions. On one occasion, when their lives 
were threatened by the mutinous legions and he urged her 
to depart to safer quarters, she proudly answered that, 
being the granddaughter of the deified Augustus, she was 
not so degerterate as to shrink from danger. 

To what extent this animosity between the two ladies 
was carried it is difficult to determine. Some historians 
claim that it resulted in placing another awful crime to 
Livia’s account. Germanicus died in Seleucia in the 
thirty-fourth year of his age, of some mysterious malady; 
and there were many who at once whispered that Livia 
had been the means of bringing about his death by poison- 
ing. But there is no proof of this, and a careful study of 
the known facts causes it to seem improbable. There was 
no motive for such an act, beyond the fact that the husband 
of Agrippina was exceedingly popular with the army and 
the people; but this was offset by his undoubted and en- 
thusiastic devotion to Tiberius. The facts, so far as they 
are now ascertainable, are these: Piso, who was Proconsul 
of Syria, was instigated by his wife Plancina to acts of 
disrespect and animosity against Germanicus and Agrip- 
pina. This woman, who was of an exceedingly masculine 
temperament,—as is shown among other things by her 
habit of taking part in the exercises of the cavalry,—was 
a great favorite with Livia and shared her closest confi- 
dence. Plancina is said to have kept about her a woman 
named Martina, who had an evil reputation as being expert 
in the use of poisonous drugs, but of whose existence 
nothing more is known than the little that is told in this 
connection. Germanicus, on his deathbed, declared that 
he was cut short in his career by the dark devices of a 
woman. The news of his decease did not affect Livia 
with the same degree of sorrow as it did the populace; 


THE ROMAN WOMAN IN POLITICS 203 


which fact tended to strengthen suspicion in the minds of 
the latter. But all this proves nothing, even though Piso, 
despairing of acquittal, destroyed himself during his trial, 
after having written a letter protesting his innocence. Nor 
does the fact that Plancina was protected by Livia furnish 
any proof that the aged and much-maligned empress was 
guilty of instigating the crime, if crime it was. 

Agrippina, after the body of her husband had been 
burned on the funeral pyre, set forth in the depth of winter 
on her journey to Rome with his ashes. At every port 
where the fleet touched she received a sad but an im- 
posing ovation. All the friends of her husband crowded 
to Brundusium, where she was to disembark; but they 
could not agree as to whether she should be received 
in respectful silence or with some more demonstrative 
expression of their sympathy. Tacitus thus depicts the 
affecting scene: ‘‘ Nothing was settled when the fleet came 
sweeping slowly in, not rigged out in sprightly fashion, 
but wearing the ensigns of sadness. When, however, the 
widow descended from the ship, bearing the funeral urn 
in her hand, accompanied by her two infants and with her 
eyes steadily fixed on the ground, one simultaneous groan 
burst from the entire assemblage.’’ Neither Tiberius, 
nor Livia, nor Antonia, the mother of Germanicus, at- 
tended the funeral. Tacitus gives the reasons that were 
alleged, but does not decide which was nearest the truth. 
** Tiberius and Livia either thought public lamentation be- 
neath their dignity, or else they feared lest if folk peered 
into their faces their hypocrisy would be discovered. 
Whether sickness detained Antonia, or overmuch sorrow 
and inability to go through the ceremony, is not known. 
I would rather believe that she was held back by Tiberius 
and Livia, who did not leave the palace, that they might 
seem to mourn in private.”’ 


204 WOMAN 


Agrippina had been exhorted by her dying husband, 
‘as she would cherish his memory, and for the sake of 
their children, to divest herself of her unyielding spirit, 
and humble herself to Fortune in the storm of her dis- 
pleasure; and, on her return to the city, not to irritate, in 
a competition for the mastery, those who were more than a 
match for her.’’ Such advice given to a Roman matron 
would have appeared unnecessary to the men of the old 
régime; but there was now a throne in Rome, and con- 
sequently women jostled each other for the place of power 
behind it. 

Agrippina needed just such counsel; but her nature 
would not allow her to profit by it. Irreproachable in her 
life, her virtues were not beautified by the divine gift of 
good humor; and she possessed no philosophy. Her mind 
was of that sort, more common among women than men, 
in which an idea having once been entertained is hence- 
forth unassailable and undetachable by reason. Than 
this class of mind there is nothing more exasperating in 
human knowledge, and it is not to be wondered at that 
she irritated Tiberius. These two angered each other on 
every occasion of their meeting: the emperor by his cruel 
persecution of Agrippina’s friends, and she him both by 
her air of martyrdom and by her evident and constant 
suspicion that he was planning some nefarious project 
against herself. 

There lacked not ambitious men at the time who were 
ready to gather around the noble widow on the pretence 
of siding with her in her complaints against the emperor; 
they even sought to raise a party for the advantage of her 
children. She probably lent herself to some extent to these 
schemes, but not in sufficient degree to bring upon her- 
self the violence of the suspicious and resentful Tiberius. 
Nevertheless, all her sons perished, except Caligula, whom 


THE ROMAN WOMAN IN POLITICS 205 


a destiny unkind to the Roman people protected from the 
fate of his brothers. 

Sejanus, the all-powerful favorite of the emperor, 
adroitly fanned the ever-smoldering animosity. which 
naturally existed between Tiberius and Agrippina. He 
warned her to beware of poison, after having informed 
Tiberius that the matron suspected that the emperor 
had designs on her life. So, when the emperor politely 
handed her fruit, calling her attention to its excellence, 
she silently passed it to the slaves. ‘‘ Can I avoid,’’ he 
exclaimed to Livia, ‘‘ treating this woman with harshness, 
when she accuses me to my face of seeking to poison 
her?”’ 

The favorite Sejanus aimed at removing every heir to 
the imperial throne, in order that at the death of Tiberius 
he might rule in name, as he already did in effect. To 
achieve this end, he first seduced Livilla, the wife of the 
son of Drusus Tiberius; then he procured by her means 
the death of Drusus and asked Livillain marriage. This the 
emperor refused. At length,—not, however, until after 
Agrippina’s sons had been destroyed,—Antonia, the mother 
of Livilla, was constrained to write to Tiberius of the con- 
spiracy of Sejanus, and by her means he was brought to 
justice. Livilla was starved to death by the command of 
her mother. 

Livia seems to have been at all times an obedient and 
submissive wife. She was honored by the confidence of 
her husband. She shared in the knowledge of his deep- 
est political projects, and her advice was asked in regard 
thereto. But there is no indication that she ever sought 
to dictate. It was otherwise, however, with Tiberius. 
Whether Livia considered that a mother’s prerogative was 
more commanding than that of a wife, or that a larger 
share of the rule might be claimed by her on account of 


206 WOMAN 


the fact that she had secured it for Tiberius, certain it is 
that the latter found there was not enough room for him- 
self and the Augusta in the imperial palace. Suetonius in- 
forms us that on one occasion, when Tiberius had haughtily 
objected to his mother’s sharing the government with him, 
Livia produced some letters which Augustus had written 
to her complaining of the pride and arrogance of Tiberius. 
The discovery that his mother had treasured these letters 
against him for so many years so wounded the emperor 
that he immediately left the city, and he never again saw 
his mother except for a few hours on one occasion. 

It is said that during her last days, when there was 
little more to hope for and nothing else to do, Livia strove 
to defend Agrippina from the machinations of Sejanus and 
the hatred of Tiberius. For twenty years she had done 
somewhat to relieve the hardship of her daughter-in-law 
Julia’s exile; but she never sought to have her recalled. 
Tacitus says that, having secretly overthrown her step- 
children in their prosperity, it was her custom to make an 
open show of compassion toward them in their adversity. 

Livia the Augusta died in A.D. 29, at the age of eighty- 
five. The verdict of the historian is that she had been a 
stepmother to the commonwealth of Rome; and this per- 
haps expresses her politics better than any other term 
that could be employed. A faithful wife, a fond mother, 
she had relentlessly witnessed the removal of every ob- 
stacle in the way of Tiberius. For the sake of her son, 
she had done and suffered everything; for the people, she 
had done nothing. Her powerful influence had at all 
times been directed by her emotions; and if we should 
carry the study to the end of the Empire, bringing into 
review all the consorts and female associates of the em- 
perors, this would still be the summary of the story of 
the Roman woman in politics. 


THE ROMAN WOMAN IN POLITICS 207 


Tiberius refused to permit the apotheosis of Livia; but 
after his death the highest honors which a superstitious 
people could devise were paid to her memory. Claudius 
caused her to be deified, and the worship of Livia was 
constituted one of the functions of the Vestals. An ideal- 
ized statue of her was placed in the temple of Augustus. 
Medals were impressed with the image of her head, and it 
was ordered that when the women of Rome had occasion 
to swear, it should be ‘‘ By Livia.’’ 

On the whole, the Roman people, who understood 
Livia’s character better than it is possible fer us to do 
at this late day, judged her very kindly. Her virtues, 
which were conjugal and domestic, were always popularly 
respected, though not generally followed. Her pride and 
cruel vices were readily condoned, because they were 
considered indispensable to the policy of rulers. Her 
husband was a successful statesman; he maintained his 
position on the throne and accomplished much for the 
best interests of the Empire. Livia was a successful 
politician; she kept the people enamored of her suprem- 
acy, but furthered no interests save those of herself and 
her son. 

Soon after the death of Livia, Agrippina was banished 
to the island of Pandataria, where her mother Julia had 
been confined for so many repentant years. It seems 
that her redoubtable spirit would not allow her to submit 
to this tyranny without a struggle; and so brutal were the 
soldiers in enforcing the emperor’s command upon her who 
had once been known as ‘‘ The Mother of the Camps,’’ 
that she lost the sight of one of her eyes. After four 
years of miserable exile, she ended her life in the ‘‘ high 
Roman manner’”’ by voluntary starvation. 

In the Capitol Museum there is a seated figure of Agrip- 
pina. It is one of the noblest pieces of statuary in the 


208 ~ WOMAN 


world. In it is seen none of that feminine sweetness 
which endeared the young wife of Germanicus to the 
hearts of the Roman legions; but there is that proud con- 
sciousness of moral dignity which Livia could not rival 
and that imperial manner which Tiberius could not cow. 
It is a sad, strong-hearted woman. One could fancy that 
a composite of all the noblest Roman matrons might have 
made just such a picture. Or it might be the goddess 
Roma, in whose personification are included the femininity 
of her daughters and also the sternness of her sons. 

In the daughter of Germanicus we have another Agrip- 
pina, who was a much more adroit politician than her 
mother. She was shrewder even than Livia, and more 
unprincipled; and was favored beyond parallel in position, 
for she was daughter by adoption of Tiberius, mother of 
Nero, sister of Caligula, and wife of Claudius. The last- 
mentioned relation gave her a much more effective posi- 
tion of vantage than Livia had enjoyed—first, on account of 
Claudius’s incapacity, and also because the Romans had 
allowed themselves to drift further away from the old 
republican ideas. Hereafter we shall study the character 
of Agrippina and shall be compelled to place her among 
those notorious women who helped to make the Neronian 
age the most corrupt period in the world’s history. Here 
we notice but briefly her political ambitions. She managed 
the emperor, securing with slight persuasion the appoint- 
ment or the dismissal of the most important State officers. 
She established colonies in her own name. Nor was she 
satisfied to remain merely the power behind the throne. 
When Caractacus the British king was carried prisoner to 
Rome, and for his courageous bearing gained for himself 
his wife and his brothers from the emperor, the prisoners 
did homage not only to Claudius, but also to Agrippina. 
The empress occupied a second throne and received an 


THE ROMAN WOMAN IN POLITICS 209 


equal share of the gratitude of the prisoners and the plau- 
dits of the people. Here was seen, as Tacitus remarks, a 
spectacle strange and unauthorized by any former custom. 
A woman had never before presided over the Roman en- 
signs. Agrippina boldly claimed to be a partner in the 
Empire which her ancestors had wrested from the ancient 
republican suffrage. 

It was with Agrippina the Second as it had been with 
Livia, every political aspiration was concentrated upon 
one object—the elevation of her own son to the imperial 
rule, and all the activities emanating from her energetic, 
resourceful nature were employed in hewing a path for 
Nero’s advancement. Woe befell the persons who stood 
in that path or seemed likely at any time to have it in 
their power and inclination to impede that advancement. 
They were ruthlessly cut down in that unrelenting manner 
of which only an ambitious woman is capable. There were 
no public works, nothing broad-minded, no thought of the 
common good: the sole motif of the Roman woman in 
politics was personal preferment. 


Chapter WILL 
The Roman GAoman in Literature 


VIII 


THE ROMAN WOMAN IN LITERATURE 


THERE was in ancient Rome a street called Argiletus, 
which we learn from Martial was occupied principally by 
booksellers. Here those works which are cherished not 
alone for their antiquity, and some others possibly as good 
but which in the misfortunes of many centuries have dis- 
appeared, were bought fresh from their authors’ hands and 
sold to the eager lovers of literature. Here, when a new 
piece by Virgil or Horace was announced, the reading 
public would flock, urged by the most commendable form 
of curiosity known to the cultured human mind. Here 
hundreds of scribes were employed in the multiplication 
of copies of those classics over which in later days have 
labored scores of generations of youthful students, with 
deep regret that those classics were not written in their 
own mother tongue. Those shops, or faberna libraria, 
were the lounging places of the famous men who created 
this literature and of those who did good service to poster- 
ity by constituting themselves the patrons of the geniuses 
of their age, who otherwise would have been as indigent 
and as barren as are the neglected authors of our own 
times. The men and women who received an ancient 
author in the name of a poet are entitled to receive a 
poet’s reward. In the shops of Secundus and the Sosii 

213 


214 WOMAN 


brothers, the literati of Rome and their admirers gathered 
to indulge in that most fascinating of all conversational 
intercourse: book talk. 

While it is probable that the presence of women was 
not so marked and frequent in these haunts of the cultured 
fraternity as it is in the book shops and publishing houses 
of modern times, this does not signify that the ladies of 
Rome did not take a deep and influential interest in litera- 
ture. Did not Augustus dedicate a public library in the 
name of his sister Octavia? There was in the Roman 
world a reading public so great as to appear to us nothing 
less than marvellous in view of the lack of the printing 
press; but slaves who could be set to copying were plenti- 
ful, and if a lady wished a copy of the poems of Propertius 
or Catullus she could procure it for a small sum in the 
street Argiletus, or she could borrow it from a friend and 
have it transcribed at home. 

Great attention was paid to the education of girls in 
Greek and Latin literature. Even those of the poorer 
class received this instruction; for such an accomplish- 
ment, especially if assisted by personal attractions, often 
availed in place of a rich dowry to secure a desirable 
match. Women also were not rare who, like Sempronia, 
could write verses of sufficient merit to be mentioned by 
the serious historians of their times, though unfortunately 
their productions have not been preserved to us. Momm- 
sen, commenting on the flood of literature which char- 
acterized the period of the commencement of the Empire, 
assures us that ‘‘ The female world also took a lively part 
in these literary pursuits; the ladies did not confine them- 
selves to dancing and music, but by their spirit and wit 
ruled conversation and talked excellently on Greek and 
Latin literature; and when poetry laid siege to a maiden’s 
heart, the beleaguered fortress not seldom surrendered 


THE ROMAN WOMAN IN LITERATURE 215 


likewise in graceful verses. Rhythm became more and 
more the fashionable plaything of the big children of both 
sexes.’’ 

If it can be shown that the law of the ‘survival of 
the fittest’’ operates with any degree of inevitability 
in the preservation of books, we shall be obliged to con- 
clude that few of the writings that owed their existence 
to the lady authors of ancient Rome were remarkable for 
their merit. It is difficult even to indulge a natural desire 
to be gallant by assuming that to the accidents of time 
may be attributed the loss of much that was worthy of 
preservation; for the number of female writers who are 
mentioned in contemporary works as having attained to 
any great degree of excellence in authorship is remark- 
ably limited. Some, however, there are. Pliny says: 
‘‘Pompeius Saturninus has lately read to me some letters 
he says are from his wife. I fancied myself listening to 
Plautus or Terence in prose. Whether they are his wife’s, 
as he affirms, or his own, as he denies them to be, he is 
entitled to equal credit: in the one case, for producing such 
compositions; in the other, for transforming his wife, a mere 
girl when he married her, into such a learned and finished 
woman.’’ Martial also tells of a young woman who, he 
says, had the eloquence of Plato, the austerity of the 
Porch, and composed verses worthy of a chaste Sappho. 
Sidonius Apollinaris recites a list of Latin poetesses; but 
of them all there is only one whose work may be read at 
the present time. We do not refer to Balbilla, who wisely 
engraved her verses and also her genealogy upon the leg 
of the statue of Memnon; the fact that these have endured 
is attributable solely to the lasting nature of the medium 
upon which they were written. 

Sulpicia, the only Roman poetess whose work is still 
extant and well authenticated, lived in the time of the 


216 WOMAN 


Emperor Domitian. She came of a famous patrician fam- 
ily, many members of which had been able men of affairs 
in their time. She was a great and highly respected 
friend of the poet Martial, to whose two epigrams on her- 
self and her husband we are indebted for almost all that 
we know of this talented woman. Her husband’s name 
was Calenus; and with him she lived for fifteen years, in 
a felicity of reciprocated conjugal affection which, notwith- 
standing the degeneracy of the age, seems to have been 
ideal. Martial bears testimony not only to her surpassing 
ability as a votary of the poetic muse, but also to the fact 
that in her life and character she exemplified a purity 
such as would beautify any age or society. 

There is in existence but one poem known to have 
been written by Sulpicia; it was called forth by an act 
of tyranny which she rebuked with as much beauty as 
spirit. During the reign of Domitian, the philosophers 
were banished from Rome by edict of the emperor. Those 
against whom this measure was particularly directed were 
of the Stoic school; this fact helps to explain the cause of 
their expulsion and also the poem which Sulpicia wrote 
upon the occasion. Their tenets inculcated an independ- 
ence of thought and manner which was entirely at variance 
with that servility which could allow the people to rest 
peacefully under the despotism of such a ruler as was 
Domitian. The philosophers were considered, and proba- 
bly justly so, a menace to the government of the tyrant. 
Whether Sulpicia was directly connected with these people 
and whether she was included in the edict of banishment, 
we do not know; in any case, it is quite clear that her 
sympathies were entirely with the expelled philosophers. 
Her satire on this incident bewails the weakness that had 
evidently fallen upon the Roman race, causing men to 
submit so easily to such tyranny as that to which her 


THE ROMAN WOMAN IN LITERATURE aL? 


friends were subjected. She asks if ‘‘the Father of the 
Gods ’’ is about to allow the Romans to revert to primeval 
barbarism, ‘‘to stoop again to acorns and the pure stream’’; 
or if he has forsaken them for the care of other nations. 
She declares that ‘‘ adversity alone is salutary for a State,’’ 
‘for when the love of country urges them to defend them- 
selves by arms, and to regain their wives, held prisoners 
with their household gods, they combine like wasps when 
their home and citadel is assaulted.’’ Then she implores 
her divine patroness that at least her husband may not 
be unwilling to abandon this inglorious ease and to leave 
Rome and its vicinity, since all the good and estimable 
have been driven from it. The poem is a noble, high- 
spirited production; and it proves Sulpicia to have been a 
woman of extraordinary intelligence and a fearless expo- 
nent of principles and ideas which the majority of men in 
her time found it more convenient to forget. 

Sulpicia was also the author of a poem on conjugal af- 
fection which is most highly commended by Martial; but 
unfortunately it has been lost. Indeed, from the reference 
in the beginning of her satire to her ‘‘ thousand sportive 
effusions,’’ we gather that she was a prolific writer and 
that all her poetry was not of the philosophic or didactic 
kind. 

With this brief reference to Sulpicia, our account of 
woman’s creative participation in Roman literature must 
end for want of material. The real part which the women 
of the Roman world played in the formation of the litera- 
ture of their time must be sought rather in the view which 
the authors present of their character and the inspiration 
which the poets drew from their love and friendship. That 
is to say, we meet the Roman woman in the poetic art of 
her nation as the model and also as the motive, but not as 
the artist. But it is very essential that we should give 


218 WOMAN 


attention to both these phases of feminine life. Hitherto 
we have dealt only with historic personages, and those of 
the highest class; to obtain a complete view of the Roman 
woman, it is necessary to see her in that broader light in 
which she is sketched by the makers of other literature 
than history. And in order that our attention may not be 
confined to the women of one class, we must take notice 
of those ladies of whom the poets sing and to whom they 
address their effusions. 

First let us consider the woman drawn by Roman crea- 
tive art. In her image, as it is portrayed in literature, we 
see the real person of flesh and blood, as she appeared to 
the literary artists. Virgil says: ‘‘ Woman is a fickle and 
ever changeable creature;’’ and yet he must have found 
in the women of his time the qualities with which he 
endowed Queen Dido. She is a Roman woman, because 
she is the creation of a Roman. She is an ideal queen; 
yet one who governs her kingdom in the same manner in 
which a noble matron presided over the activities of her 
household, ‘‘ dispensing justice and laws to her subjects ”’ 
from the middle room, or atrium, of the temple, and ‘‘in 
equal portions distributing their tasks or settling them by 
lot.’” Furthermore, she is a true woman. She is the 
sole contribution of Roman poetry to that gallery of im- 
aginary men and women who, having their existence only 
in literature, are immortal because they faithfully repre- 
sent the real. In Dido, Virgil, though he calls her a 
Sidonian, shows how a woman of pagan Rome could love; 
and how, her heart being broken and her pride injured 
by rejection, she could die in the high-spirited manner 
peculiar to her prideful race. | 

But in all Latin poesy there is no other character such 
as Dido. When we turn to Plautus and Terence, we 
learn a great deal about women, but we encounter none 


THE ROMAN WOMAN IN LITERATURE 219 


that live and move and havea being. These authors did 
not lay their scenes in the houses of the patricians or in 
the seats of the mighty; they show us a class of women 
that we have not hitherto met. Having studied the high- 
est, we now turn to the lowest stratum of Roman society. 
We are introduced to a class of people who traffic in 
female beauty; and much insight is gained into that laxity 
of morals which was countenanced both by the laws and 
customs of ancient Rome. Here we are informed of the 
multitude of girls who were carefully trained and educated, 
both in mind and person, that they might make profit for 
their owners by the prostitution of their charms. We 
meet these girls as they are being sent to school in order 
that, at the same time, their intellects may be developed 
and their commercial value enhanced. In these plays, we 
are shown the women of the brothel; and we are less 
astounded at the greatness of their number than we are 
at the complacency with which their existence was toler- 
ated in Roman society. These women were principally 
unfortunates who had been captured in war or were born 
in slavery, and the only redeeming feature in the picture 
of their situation is the intimation that now and again one, 
by signal success in a bad business, might hope to earn 
her freedom. 

It is said that because a sacrifice of virtue is made by 
one class of women, the members of another class are 
enabled to live purely. If we accept Juvenal’s description 
of the character of the Roman women as a true one, it 
must be concluded that the morality of the more fortunate 
ladies gained little by the immorality of those who were 
courtesans perforce or by profession; but in satire it is 
essential to fasten upon the worst, and to hold it up to 
public ridicule as representative of the whole. There is 
no balance, no justice, no offsetting the indecent by that 


220 WOMAN 


which is noble and good. The Roman woman was not at 
any period such a morally deformed creature as Juvenal 
paints her; nor could the ladies who patronized literature 
have been quite so disagreeable as he would have us 
believe. It is certain that he was not blessed with a 
patroness, or, in his description of the Roman ‘‘blue- 
stocking,’’ the shafts of satire would not have been em- 
bittered with so much prejudice. Yet, as indicating how 
some men regarded the devotion to belles-lettres which 
was affected by the women, we will quote what the 
great satirist says on the subject. After depicting some 
monstrously disagreeable females, he declares: 


‘* But she is more intolerable yet, 
Who plays at critic when at table set: 
Calls Virgil charming, and attempts to prove 
Poor Dido right in venturing all for love. 
From Maro and Meonides she quotes 
The striking passages, and, while she notes 
Their beauties and defects, adjusts her scales, 
And accurately weighs which bard prevails. 
The astonished guests sit mute; grammarians yield, 
Loud rhetoricians, baffled, quit the field ; 
Even auctioneers and lawyers stand aghast, 
And not a woman speaks.—So thick and fast 
The wordy shower descends, that you would swear 
A thousand bells were jangling in your ear, 
A thousand basins clattering. Vex no more 
Your trumpets and your timbrels, as of yore, 
To ease the laboring moon; her single yell 
Can drown their clangor, and dissolve the spell. 
She lectures too in Ethics, and declaims 
On the Chief Good !—but, surely, she who aims 
To seem too learned, should take the male array; 
A hog, due offering, to Sylvanus slay, 
And, with the Stoic’s privilege, repair 
To farthing baths, and strip in public there. 
Oh, never may the partner of my bed 
With subtleties of logic stuff her head ; 
Nor whirl her rapid syllogisms round, 
Nor with imperfect enthymemes confound. 


THE ROMAN WOMAN IN LITERATURE 221 


Enough for me, if common things she know, 
And boast the little learning schools bestow. 

I hate the female pedagogue, who pores 

O’er her Palemon hourly ; who explores 

All modes of speech, regardless of the sense, 
But tremblingly alive to mood and tense; 
Who puzzles me with many an uncouth phrase 
From some old canticle of Numa’s days; 
Corrects her country friends, and cannot hear 
Her husband solecize without a sneer.”’ 


It may be that the horror of:#earned women which was 
affected by Juvenal arose from his realization of that 
proverb which declares the inability of two who are en- 
gaged in the same trade to maintain intimate and happy 
relations. Whether or not he was so unfortunate as to 
learn this by personal experience, we have no means of 
ascertaining; but it is certain that while many of the 
Roman authors gained inspiration and influence from 
the women with whom they were connected, others dis- 
covered in their matrimonial relations a want of harmony 
unfavorable to the cultivation of the muse. In Terentia, 
for example, Cicero was burdened with a wife who en- 
tirely lacked that power of sympathy which is the glory 
of womanhood. Terentia did not appreciate her brilliant 
husband; and she could not anticipate the honor in which 
she might have been held by posterity, had she proved 
herself the devoted wife of so famous a man. But, after 
all has been said, she probably knew Cicero better than 
he is known by posterity. He alleged that she was so 
overbearing that at last he was compelled to divorce her; 
but in Terentia the old adage was justified which says 
that what is one man’s poison is another man’s pleasure, 
for, being repudiated by Cicero to the great relief of him- 
self, she was at once accepted by the historian Sallust; 
and inasmuch as there appears to have been no other 


222 WOMAN 


motive for their union, it seems probable that the bond 
between them was that of sentiment. 

Then there was that other Terentia, who was such a 
trial to the patience of Mzcenas, the great patron of litera- 
ture in the days of Augustus. Her he repudiated so often, 
and yet received back so regularly, that it was said of him 
that he had been married a thousand times, and yet all 
the while had but one wife. 

There was another class of women which furnished 
many of the names intimately connected with Roman 
poetry, not for what thesertwomen themselves did, but 
because of their intimate relations with the poets. As the 
exquisite tracery of primordial ferns is sometimes found 
embedded in the carboniferous strata, so these women, 
whose names would otherwise have perished with their 
generation, were, by the chances of their birth and for- 
tune, brought into connection with literary men, and their 
memory has thus been preserved in Latin poesy. It is to 
Martial himself that we are indebted for the information 
that, returning to his country home after many years of 
absence in Rome, he finds comfort for the lack of his 
urban pleasures and conveniences in the society of Mar- 
cella, a lady of uncommon intellectual development and 
grace of person. Her relation to the poet was rather that 
of patroness than mistress. It would seem unimportant 
either way; yet she assisted in the production of literature 
more durable than the Empire, and her name is known to 
posterity. 

Every reader of Horace knows of Lydia, Glycera, 
Phyllis, and Barine. Who were they? To have found 
them in that ancient Rome, it would have been necessary 
to go, not to houses such as have been described as the 
homes of the imperial women, but to those insula, or 
huge tenements, in which the great mass of the people 


THE ROMAN WOMAN IN LITERATURE 223 


lived. There these women inhabited one room or many, 
according as their poverty or wealth would warrant. The 
latter depended largely upon their youth and beauty; for 
these women were light-o’-loves, who were inured to the 
changes and chances of their position, and could turn from 
one lover to another with as few heart pangs as were 
suffered by their inconstant friends. In many cases, they 
were the daughters of unnaturalized foreigners, whom 
Roman citizens could not marry and to whom no lot other 
than that of the mistress was open. That such women 
were the intimates of Horace is revealed by the manner 
in which he descants in his Satires on the danger attend- 
ing liaisons with married women—so also is the sincerity 
of that affection to which he swears in his Odes. Speak- 
ing of those ladies who were not eligible for marriage 
bonds, he says: ‘‘ When | am in the company of such an 
one, she is my Ilia and A®geria; in short, I give her any 
tender name.”’ 

The favorite of Horace seems to have been Lydia, of 
whose ‘‘ distinguished fame ’”’ he tells, but does not inform 
us on what account she was famous. Among the amorous 
epistles in which he addresses her, there is more than one 
that reveals his jealous knowledge of the fact that he is 
not the sole recipient of her favors. As a punishment for 
her occasional inhospitable treatment of him, he writes an 
insulting ode in which it is averred that she has grown 
too old for lovers and that her slumbers will no more be 
disturbed by the serenade. Horace possessed the ability, 
and did not lack the meanness, to castigate these women 
in his poetry after the most shameful manner; and that 
not for their moral delinquencies, but because of the sus- 
pension of their preferences for himself. Witness the 
manner in which he gloats over the fading of the charms 
of Lyce, who had sometime disdained his advances: 


224 WOMAN 


‘©Wrinkles and snowy hair render you odious. Now 
neither Coan purples nor sparkling jewels restore those 
years which winged time has inserted in the public annals. 
Whither is your beauty gone? Alas! or whither your 
bloom? Whither your graceful deportment? What have 
you remaining of her, of her who breathed loves and 
ravished me from myself? Happy in accomplishments 
next to Cynara, and distinguished for an aspect of grace- 
ful delicacies. But the Fates granted but a few years to 
Cynara, intending to preserve Lyce for a long time, 
to rival in years the aged raven; that the fervid young 
fellows might see, not without excessive laughter, that 
torch, which once so brightly scorched, now reduced to 
ashes.”’ 

As a finale at once to his love epistles and amorous 
relationships, he invites Phyllis to an entertainment in 
his country villa on Mecenas’s birthday; and among the 
provisions for this festive occasion he mentions a caskful 
of Albanian wine, upward of nine years old, besides 
parsley for the weaving of chaplets, and ivy to bind her 
hair. ‘‘ Come, then, last of my loves: learn with me such 
measures as you may recite with your lovely voice; our 
gloomy cares shall be mitigated with an ode.’’ 

Through Ovid we learn of Corinna, who was his mis- 
tress and the heroine of his love elegies; but his passion 
for her was no more sincere than we should expect from 
that manual of libertinism—his Ars amatoria. This work 
is the glorification of animalism and indirectly a defama- 
tion of woman. It assumes with the most undisguised 
frankness that the root and source of the principal part of 
the attention which men pay to women is their availability 
for the purpose of satisfying amatory desire, and it alleges 
the theory that any woman will capitulate the citadel of 
her honor, if only it be besieged with indefatigableness 


THE ROMAN WOMAN IN LITERATURE 225 


and resource. It was by such poetry as this that the 
women of Rome were prepared for that carnival of vice 
into which they threw themselves with such frenzied 
abandonment in the days of Claudius and Nero. In the 
eroticism of Latin poetry is revealed a society in which 
illicit love is put to the experiment; in Roman history is 
made manifest the resulting moral chaos. 

The master of this school was Catullus; and he immor- 
talized one Lesbia, who was the principal heroine in his 
love poems. It has been said by one of the best-informed 
students of Roman literature that the poems of Catullus 
to Lesbia are unique in Roman letters for the intensity 
and self-oblivion of the passion they portray. We learn 
from Apuleius that Clodia was the real name of Lesbia; 
and it is supposed that the latter name was given her by 
her lover because of his admiration of the Lesbian poetess. 
Many have concluded from the statement of Apuleius that 
Lesbia was the notoriously fascinating sister of Clodius, 
the woman whom Cicero so mercilessly pilloried before the 
judges; but the possibility of this seems to be precluded 
by the fact that Catullus indited a poem to Cicero in 
which he terms him the ‘‘ best of all advocates ’’—a cour- 
tesy which hardly could have been overlooked or forgiven 
by the woman to whom the advocate had given such ample 
cause for hatred. 

Many of Catullus’s brightest pieces are addressed to 
Lesbia; but all are touched by the poet’s consciousness of 
her inconstancy. At last she leaves him, and he bids her 
adieu in the lines which have thus been so eee 
rendered by Moore: 


‘* Comrades and friends, with whom where’er 
The Fates have willed through life I’ve roved, 
Now speed ye home, and with you bear 
These bitter words to her I’ve loved. 


226 WOMAN 


“Tell her from fool to fool to run, 
Where’er her vain caprice may call; 
Of all her dupes, not loving one, 
But ruining and maddening all. 


“Bid her forget—what now is past— 
Our once dear love, whose ruin lies 
Like a fair flower, the meadow’s last, 
That feels the ploughshare’s edge, and dies.” 


In Cynthia, whose love and beauty inspired the pen 
of Propertius, is seen the sympathetic helpmate as well 
as the mistress. She was the granddaughter of Lucius 
Hostius, who wrote a poem on the Illyrian War. She in- 
herited her ancestor’s love of literature, and there conse- 
quently existed between her and Propertius that fellowship 
in poetic labor which is the most perfect companionship 
known to human experience. Though of the highest type 
of that class of women, she was a courtesan; which ac- 
counts for the fact that the poet could not, as he desired, 
make her his lawful wife. Her house was situated in the 
Suburra, which was the centre of ‘‘ Bohemian’’ life in 
Rome and the quarter especially favored by women of 
her class. The intimacy between her and Propertius 
lasted for six years; but, notwithstanding their sympa- 
thetic tastes, those years were not passed in unbroken 
concord. Cynthia, besides other faults, seems to have 
possessed a violent temper, and in some outburst of this 
Propertius was banished. After this, though their friend- 
ship was renewed, neither was faithful to the other. 
During the illness which preceded her death, they were 
again reconciled to each other, which fact, more than any- 
thing else, indicates the hold that Cynthia must have had 
upon the sincere affection of the poet. In the seventh poem 
of his last book, Propertius gives an account of a dream he 
had of Cynthia after her death; and from certain allusions 


THE ROMAN WOMAN IN LITERATURE 227 


therein contained it may be inferred that she left to him 
the duty of disposing of her property and arranging her 
funeral. 

Women like Cynthia were not in any degree conspicu- 
ous among their contemporaries; they were nothing more 
than ciphers in the estimation of those great ladies who 
took a part in the game of politics. They are only known 
to us because their names chanced to be embalmed in the 
writings of the men whose companions they were; but 
from this distance, whence the names of the women of 
Rome may be seen as divested of that fictitious glory 
which was a mere accident of their birth, a Cynthia gains 
more interest from her connection with a poet than does a 
Julia from her relation to an emperor. 

These women look out at us from the tmsule@ in which 
were massed the common people. We catch glimpses of 
their fair faces and hear somewhat of their sportive talk, 
but unfortunately we know little of their lives. History 
has not individualized the woman of the common people; 
literature has dressed her up in all her finery, and has posed 
her in natural but unusual situations. Delia, Nemesis, and 
Nezra, women whose love and whose loss Tibullus sang 
in such passionate strains, though human enough, as is at- 
tested by their fickleness, are credited with those charms 
which have their existence only in the imagination of a 
poet and in a lover’s fancy. 

Tibullus, unlike Horace, took his love affairs too seri- 
ously; consequently, owing to the character of the women 
to whom he became attached, they brought him more grief 
than pleasure. The first object of his affection was Delia, 
whose real name, according to Apuleius, was Plania. ‘‘She 
belonged,’’ says Milman, ‘‘to that class of females of the 
middle order, not of good family, but above poverty, which 
answered to the Greek hetzrz.’’ Tibullus longed to retire 


228 WOMAN 


with her to the undisturbed seclusion of the country. For 
her sake he rejected a flattering offer from his great patron 
Messala, who desired the poet’s companionship on a mar- 
tial expedition. ‘‘ The bonds of a fair girl hold me captive, 
and I sit like a gatekeeper before her obdurate door. I care 
not to be praised, my Delia; only let me be with thee, and 
I am content to be called slow and spiritless.’’ It would 
have been very surprising if the poet had been able to 
retain the fidelity of Delia by such arguments as these. 
The time had not yet come when the women of Rome did 
not love soldierly valor; the time never came when they 
were not influenced by the hope of a participation in the 
spoils of conquest. Shortly after the rejection of Messala’s 
offer, the poet seems to have been obliged to leave the city; 
and when he returns, he finds that Delia has married; upon 
which, in the imagery of poetic numbers, he drowns his 
grief in wine. However, he soon recalls to his mind the fact 
that a husband is not necessarily an insurmountable bar- 
rier between himself andthe lady. She must be taught how 
to elude observing eyes. He pretends—the wish probably 
being father to the thought—that he has a magic which will 
render them invisible. ‘‘ Chant thrice, spit thrice after re- 
citing the charm; your husband will be unable to believe 
the testimony of his own eyes.’’ But Delia could not remain 
faithful even to such a pertinacious lover. What a moving 
scene is that in the fifth elegy of the first book! It is worthy 
of quotation, if for no other reason than that in it the poet 
recites the efficacious means which he has employed for the 
recovery of Delia, who has been ill. 
‘* What can atone, my fair, for crimes like these? 

’ll bear with patience, use me as you please. 

Yet, by Love’s shafts, and by your braided hair, 

By all the joys we stole, your suppliant spare. 


When sickness dimmed of late your radiant eyes, 
My restless, fond petitions won the skies. 


THE ROMAN WOMAN IN LITERATURE 229 


Thrice J with sulphur purified you round, 

And thrice the rite, with songs, the enchantress bound; 
The cake, by me thrice sprinkled, put to flight 

The death-denouncing phantoms of the night; 

And I nine times, in linen garbs arrayed, 

In silent night, nine times to Trivia prayed. 

What did I not? Yet what reward have I? 

You love another, your preserver fly.’’ 


The Romans most firmly believed that there was efficacy 
in odd numbers. 

In the seventh elegy, the poet complains that he has 
been caught in his own trap; for Delia is practising upon 
himself those arts by which he has taught her to deceive 
her husband. Then he appeals to her husband to assist 
him in watching her and keeping her from others. This 
appears to be a rather bold step; but, considering the class 
to which Delia belonged, it is likely that her intimacy with 
Tibullus was no news to her spouse. The address to him 
is nothing more than a most exquisite piece of persiflage. 
From this time on, however, we hear no more of Delia. 

The poet now turns to Nemesis, with whom he is no 
more fortunate. Besides being fickle, she is avaricious; 
from which fault Tibullus tries to save her, possibly not 
altogether without a thought of the limitation of his own 
means. ‘‘The girl who is good-natured and not ava- 
ricious, though she live a hundred years, shall be wept 
for before the blazing pyre; and some aged man, revering 
the memory of his old love, shall yearly deck her reared 
tomb with flowers, and say as he leaves it: ‘Rest well 
and placidly, and light be the earth above thy quiet 
bones!’ ”’ 

The third book of elegies is dedicated to Newra. On the 
first of March, it was customary for the Roman women to 
expect presents from their husbands and lovers. Tibullus 
was betrothed to Negra, and was confronted with the 


230 WOMAN 


question as to what he should send her for a New Year’s 
gift. The Muses inform him that the lovely are won with 
song; hence he determines to send her a book of his own 
poems. It was made of the finest paper; and upon the 
cover—which was yellow, the color sacred to marriage— 
the recipient’s name was beautifully inscribed, with the 
dedication: Your husband that will be, chaste Newra, sends 
you this little gift and begs you to accept tt. 

To what degree Nezra prized the volume is not known; 
but Tibullus was no more fortunate with her than he had 
been with the others. In a dream it is revealed to him 
that: ‘‘She who is celebrated in thy songs, the beauti- 
ful Nezra, prefers to be the bride of another.’’ ‘‘ Ah, 
cruel sex! woman, faithless name!’’ exclaims the poet; 
and then: ‘‘ But she may be won yet; their minds are 
changeable.”’ 

The fourth book of poems published under his name 
was probably not written by Tibullus. Eleven of these 
poems relate to the love of Sulpicia, a Roman lady of high 
station, and the daughter of Valeria, the sister of Messala. 
She had fallen in love with a youth named Cerinthus, and 
these poems tell the story. It is thought by many that 
Sulpicia was the author of them and that, in fact, some of 
them are nothing other than her own letters to her lover. 
These ‘‘letters’’ are very short; but, if this supposition is 
correct, they are the only love poems by a Roman woman 
that have survived. 

Thus she writes to Cerinthus from her couch, to which 
she is confined by a racking fever: 

‘‘On my account, to grief a ceaseless prey, 
Dost thou a sympathetic anguish prove? 
I would not wish to live another day, 
If my recovery did not charm my love; 


For what were life, and health, and bloom to me, 
Were they displeasing, beauteous youth! to thee?” 


THE ROMAN WOMAN IN LITERATURE 231 


There is another Roman woman who may be counted 
on the list of authors, and whose writings, had they only 
been preserved, would have proved of exceeding interest. 
This was the brilliant and accomplished Agrippina the 
Younger; a woman who was as finished a scholar as she 
was an experienced and successful politician. She wrote 
her Memoirs, not so much from a desire to make a con- 
tribution to history as to use them to blacken the character 
of the enemies of her house. She dipped her pen in the 
venom of hate and envy, and she found her material in 
the scandalous stories which floated about Rome, growing 
daily more exaggerated from an origin which no one knew. 
From this work of Agrippina, Suetonius and Tacitus doubt- 
less drew much of the information which in their more 
serious productions blackens the character of Tiberius. 
It is also likely that, if it had not been for the facile and 
unrestrained pen of her successor, Messalina would have 
been known to us as a far less disreputable woman than 
she is made to appear. 

Although there is no writing of Agrippina’s extant, we 
do have what purports to be the speech in her defence 
which she made when accused by Junia Silana with a 
design of inciting Plautus to effect a change in the State, 
and, by marrying him, to regain her power in the com- 
monwealth, which Nero had taken out of her hands. Init 
all we see nothing but the backbitings of two rancorous 
old women; but it was represented to Nero as a horrible 
affair. Nero’s fears were so excited that it was with 
difficulty that he could be induced to allow his mother to 
survive until morning and have an opportunity to make 
her own defence. We have her speech as it is given by 
Tacitus. Possibly it is the historian’s own composition; 
but it is exactly what we might expect from the fierce old 
empress-mother. And as it is certain that Seneca and 


232 WOMAN 


Burrhus, to whom it was addressed, would have with them 
shorthand writers, it is not improbable that Tacitus took 
it from the official records. ‘‘I wonder not,’’ said Agrip- 
pina, ‘‘that Silana, who never bore a child, should be a 
stranger to the affections of a mother; for, in truth, chil- 
dren are not so easily renounced by their parents, as 
adulterers are changed by a profligate. Nor, because 
Iturius and Calvisus, after having consumed their whole 
fortunes, as a last resource pay back to an old woman 
their services in undertaking my accusation, as an equiva- 
lent for their hire, does it follow that Iam to be branded 
with the infamy, or that Caesar should conceive the guilt 
of parricide. As to Domitia, I would thank her for all the 
efforts of her enmity to me, if she strove to exceed me in 
kindness to her nephew, my Nero. At present, by the 
ministration of Atimetus, her minion, and the merry- 
andrew Paris, she is framing a farce to fit for the stage. 
Where was she when I by my counsels obtained the 
adoption of her nephew and my son into the Claudian 
house? when I advanced his cause in every way neces- 
sary for getting him the Empire?—Admiring her fish- 
ponds at Baiz.’’ If this is Agrippina’s composition, there 
is certainly no lack of force in it and she was preémi- 
nently an adept in the use of innuendo. We would like 
to have seen those Memoirs. 

To turn to a pleasanter subject and introduce a more 
amiable, though less picturesque, character. While there 
were few women authors, there were many ladies who 
knew how to appreciate the work of their literary hus- 
bands; matrons who, in the bonds of legal marriage, were 
companions to their husbands in learning as well as in 
other things. Pliny has left us a most beautiful pen 
portrait of his young wife. He tells how, to please him 
more, she studied polite literature, learned his books by 


THE ROMAN WOMAN IN LITERATURE 233 


heart, set his verses to music, and accompanied them on 
her lyre. ‘‘ How great is her anxiety,’’ he says, ‘‘ when 
she sees me going to speak in court, and how great her 
joy when I have spoken! She sets messengers about to 
report to her what favor and applause I have excited, and 
what is the result of the trial. Then whenever I recite 
she sits hard by, separated only from us by a curtain, and 
catches up with eager ears the praise bestowed on me.’’ 


Chapter EX 
GAoman at her GHorst 


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Wake 
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IX 


WOMAN AT HER WORST 


IN the course of this study there have come within our 
view some of the noblest women of whom the history of 
the world can boast. We have seen women of exalted 
purity in high positions, stately, dignified matrons, women 
renowned for intellect and noble spirit, women who have 
bravely endured unmerited suffering; we have also noted 
the women of the common people, and the gay ladies who 
ministered to love and laughter. But our account will be 
incomplete, the picture will not be a true one, unless it 
also represents the worst that human nature has produced, 
women stained with some of the basest crimes recorded 
in the annals of human depravity. It is a story in which 
the sober truth can only be told in superlative terms. 
What Scipio feared and Cato endeavored to prevent came 
to pass; and at the time when Rome centred in herself all 
the power and glory of the world, she also reached the 
climax of the vice and degradation of all ages. 

The moral conditions which characterized the period 
between the reigns of Tiberius and Nero are, in these 
days, impossible of adequate comprehension. It was a 
continuous Saturnalia, a perpetual reign of terror, a par- | 
oxysm of indecency. What renders the situation so 
amazing and so difficult to describe is its strange mixture 

237 


238 WOMAN 


of civilization and savagery, of art and anarchy. The 
atrocious cruelties which render the history of that time 
so terrible and the lust which makes it so revolting are 
not attributed to half-clad barbarians or ignorant Asiatics; 
they were participated in by men and women whose out- 
ward life was marked and distinguished by all the signs 
and appointments of culture. The Julias and the Poppzeas 
of the age were women who lived in beautiful houses; 
they were surrounded by a magnificence of art such as 
never since has been witnessed; they were the students 
of a literature which the world has never ceased to admire. 
Nor was the extravagant wickedness of the time a revolt 
against law; on the contrary, everything was done in 
accordance with legal forms. Vistilia, the wife of a Roman 
knight, in order that she might be unrestrained in her 
lasciviousness, went before the ediles and proclaimed 
herself a prostitute, the law considering that prostitutes 
were sufficiently punished by merely thus avowing their 
shame. Even when the innocent children of Sejanus were 
put to death for the misdeeds of their father, the little 
girl—who asked what she had done that was wrong and 
if they were going to whip her—must be outraged by the 
executioner before he strangled her; for it was unlawful 
to inflict capital punishment upon virgins. While such 
things were being perpetrated, the ladies of Rome were 
studying the Greek philosophers, reading their own Virgil, 
and improving their diction by an acquaintance with the 
elegant periods of Cicero. It was an age in which the arts 
of civilization were entirely divorced from the best im- 
pulses of humanity, an age when the highest mental attain- 
ments were joined with the lowest moral conditions. The 
depraved Messalina was contemporary with the philosophic 
Seneca; the conscienceless Agrippina the Younger was a 
student of letters and an author. 


WOMAN AT HER WORST 239 


It is easy to perceive that the cruelty and lust which 
render the history of the first two centuries of the Chris- 
tian era so lurid are simply the natural developments from 
preceding conditions. The proscriptions and massacres of 
Sylla and the two triumvirates could but produce a society 
which would witness bloodshed with apathy, if not with 
delight. The total disregard of the sacredness of matri- 
monial vows, when political purposes were to be served, 
necessarily resulted in a generation of women among whom 
chastity was a matter of indifference and honor a thing 
unknown. Given a society thus, by heritage and training, 
predisposed to inhumanity and licentiousness, and it only 
needed the presence of favorable conditions for the intro- 
duction upon the imperial stage of a company of women 
upon whose actions the world has ever since gazed with 
profound amazement. Such conditions were then present 
in Rome in such a degree as they have never been at 
any other time or among any other people. The age was 
propitious and the circumstances were ripe for a climax in 
human depravity. The spoil of the conquered world pro- 
vided Rome with incalculable riches; the Empire was the 
prize of him who could win and hold it, and of her who 
could maintain her position by the side of the ruler; power 
and the absence of restraint gave free rein to impulses 
which the existent conditions necessarily rendered evil. 
This was the entourage of the women of Rome under the 
first emperors. The ladies of the nobility were trained 
and urged to cruelty and prostitution by the exigencies of 
their position; the women of the common class, for whom 
tributary bread and sanguinary spectacles were freely 
provided, were impelled in the same direction by example 
and idleness. 

The acme of female turpitude was attained by Mes- 
salina, whose name has ever since served as a byword 


240 WOMAN 


for unparalleled incontinence. Valeria Messalina was the 
great-granddaughter of Octavia, the sister of Augustus, 
both on her father’s and her mother’s side; thus in her 
veins united a twofold stream of the sacred Julian blood, 
which fact she never allowed herself to forget while in- 
sisting upon her demands, though it had no restraining 
effect upon her conduct. When only sixteen years of 
age, she became the third wife of the feeble, half-imbecile 
Claudius; one of her predecessors was Plautia Urgulanilla, 
the daughter of that proud Urgulania whose debts Livia 
Augusta had been compelled to pay. Plautia was divorced 
for ‘‘scandalous lewdness’’ and on the suspicion of mur- 
der, after she had given birth to two children, the youngest 
of whom Claudius exposed, being convinced that it had no 
just claims upon his paternal authority. But his honor as 
a husband was far less safe with Messalina than it had 
been with Plautia. That she should have any affection 
for the doddering, gormandizing old man—he was nearly 
fifty—was hardly to be expected. During the first three 
years after the marriage, her position was comparatively 
private, her husband having no expectation of attaining to 
the imperial throne. 

During the reign of the demented Caligula, the women 
of the court present no figure of political importance, and 
are not interesting except as they illustrate the deprav- 
ity of the times. This emperor was possessed with an 
exaggerated idea of the divinity that was inherent in the 
Augustan race. Therefore he deemed that, like the kings 
of Egypt, he should conserve that dignity by marrying his 
own sister. Suetonius will have us believe that all three 
of the sisters of Caligula were dishonored by their brother; 
but Drusilla was his favorite. She had been given to 
Cassius Longinus, but Caligula took her from him and 
kept her as though she were his lawful wife. He made 


WOMAN AT HER WORST 241 


a will appointing her heiress of his private estates and 
also of the Empire; and at her death he ordered for her a 
public mourning, and threatened capital punishment against 
any person who should laugh or bathe or seek any amuse- 
ment during the period. It was also declared that she had 
been received among the heavenly deities; and as Pan- 
thea, the universal goddess, her worship was enjoined 
upon all the cities of Italy and the provinces. 

The other sisters, Agrippina and Julia, became involved 
in a conspiracy with Marcus AEmilius Lepidus against the 
life of their brother; and when the plot was discovered, 
though the lives of these women were spared,—probably 
owing to Caligula’s intense respect for the Julian blood,— 
their property was confiscated and they were both sent 
into exile. Agrippina, however, was first compelled to 
perform a most unpleasant office. The family of Lepidus 
begged that his ashes might rest in the family mausoleum 
at Rome, and the disordered mind of Caligula recalled a 
journey which his mother had made, bearing the ashes of 
Germanicus. So he forced Agrippina, who had schemed 
to marry Lepidus in the hope of gaining for him the suc- 
cession, to carry the urn that contained his remains from 
Germany to Rome, and never once allowed her, night or 
day, to rest from bearing her burden. 

Of the wives of Caligula, Suetonius says: ‘‘ Whether in 
repudiating them or retaining them he acted with greater 
infamy, \it is difficult to say.’’ Being at the wedding of 
Caius Piso with Livia Orestilla, he ordered the bride to be 
carried to his own house; but within a few days divorced 
her, and two years after banished her, because, as was 
thought, upon her divorce she had returned to her former 
husband. Lollia Paulina, who was married to a man of 
consular rank in command of an army, having been men- 
tioned to Caligula as much resembling her grandmother, 


242 WOMAN 


who had been a famous beauty, the emperor suddenly 
called her from the province where she resided with her 
husband, and married her; but he soon repudiated her, 
interdicting her from ever afterward marrying another 
man. He loved with a most passionate and constant affec- 
tion Czsonia, who was neither handsome nor young, and 
who was the mother of three daughters by another man; 
but she was a woman of excessive wantonness. He would 
frequently exhibit her to the soldiers, riding by his side, 
dressed in a military cloak, with shield and helmet. To 
his friends he showed her in a guise far less elaborate and 
much more improper. After she had borne a child to him, 
she was honored with the title of wife. Caligula named 
the infant Julia Drusilla, and, carrying it around the tem- 
ples of all the goddesses, he laid it on the lap of Minerva, 
from whom he begged the care of bringing up and instruct- 
ing this daughter. He considered her as his own child, for 
no better reason than that her temper was so savage that 
even in infancy she would attack with her nails the faces 
and eyes of the children at play with her. 

Czesonia could hardly have enjoyed her position, espe- 
cially on those occasions when her demoniacal husband 
would amuse himself with the idea of having it in his 
power to sever her neck at any time that it might please 
him so to do. She was killed at the time of his assassina- 
tion; and, fortunately, her vicious offspring perished with 
her. The manner in which Cesonia met her death seems 
to indicate that the woman not only possessed courage, but 
also that she cherished some sort of affection for her hus- 
band. The conspirators hesitated over the question as to 
whether she should share his fate; but it was only for 
a few minutes. It was believed by many that it was 
through her love philtres and licentious practices that his 
mind had become disordered and that therefore she was, 


WOMAN AT HER WORST 243 


in a sense, the author of his evil doings. It being deter- 
mined that she should die, the men who went in search 
of her found Czsonia embracing the body of Caligula 
as it lay upon the ground, and they heard her bewailing 
the fact that he had not been governed by her advice. 
Whether that advice had been to restrain himself in his 
madness, or to follow with vengeful measures a clue which 
she had given him in regard to the conspiracy, those who 
heard her could not decide. Their minds were predis- 
posed to believe in the latter explanation. When she saw 
Lupus, the man who had her death in charge, approaching, 
she sat up, all besmeared as she was with her husband’s 
blood, and, baring her throat, requested the assassin not 
to be awkward in finishing the tragedy. She received the 
death stroke cheerfully, and the little daughter, who was 
by her mother’s side, perished by the same sword. 

To his own intense astonishment, Claudius suddenly 
found himself proclaimed and accepted as Emperor of 
the Romans. There is no evidence to show that Messa- 
lina had anticipated this change of fortunes any more than 
had her husband. Finding herself, however, in the posi- 
tion of empress, she had no mind to do otherwise than 
maintain herself secure in its enjoyment. The times were 
such that this could be done only by means of merciless 
expedients. This fact should constantly be kept in mind 
as we study the women of imperial Rome. No individual 
can be governed by the ideas that are prevalent in the 
society in which he lives and, at the same time, dispense 
with the methods ordinarily employed by that society. 
The Romans of the period which we are now reviewing 
believed that the best, as well as the easiest, way in 
which to placate an enemy or to outwit a rival was to 
destroy him. Messalina had no desire to do better than 
her surroundings warranted; in fact, she represents the 


244 WOMAN 


climax of immorality. There were two causes which led 
her freely to dispense destruction among her associates. 
First, there were plenty of women who would gladly have 
rivalled her in the affection of the amorous Claudius; and 
while she did not in the least reciprocate her husband’s 
affection, its retention was necessary to the maintenance 
of her position. Again, her innumerable amours were 
constantly furnishing weapons against herself, and it was 
only by inspiring dread that she could restrain her enemies 
from making use of them to her own destruction. 

In such a position as she found herself, and among such 
surroundings, it is not surprising that Messalina was bad. 
Raised, when only a mere girl, to a dizzy height; flattered 
and sought after by all the most dissolute of the imperial 
court; the wife of a doting husband who, as she quickly 
discovered, was absolutely under her influence; all this 
would have tested a woman in whose character good im- 
pulses were perceptibly present. So far as can be learned, 
Messalina possessed no such impulses; on the contrary, 
everything in her contributed to the strength of the evil 
influences of her environment. Her glaring immoralities, 
combined with the consummate art with which she con- 
trived to befool her husband, have rendered this woman’s 
history a monument of conjugal infidelity for all the ages. 

We may be fairly certain as to Messalina’s personal ap- 
pearance, for there are a number of cameos and busts of 
her in existence, though, of course, some of these are ideal 
and others are not well executed. Baring Gould, who has 
made a careful study of the sculptured portraits of the 
Cezsarian family, regards it as certain that in the onyx 
cameo which is in the Cabinet of Antiques at Vienna and 
in the bust now preserved in the Uffizi Palace we have 
what may be considered correct representations of Messa- 
lina. Of the former, he says: ‘‘ The hair is arranged in 


WOMAN AT HER WORST 245 


small curls covered with a species of crown wreathed with 
corn. This is the usual mark of the deification of an em- 
press as Ceres. The brow is low, the nose straight and a 
little retroussé at the end, the mouth remarkable for the 
thinness of the lips; the chin is not prominent, and a 
peculiar feature is the slope from the chin to the throat, 
forming a marked contrast in formation to that of Livia 
opposite. The mouth turns down, but there is a slight 
contraction in the corner.’’ Of the bust, he tells us: ‘‘ The 
profile there has a remarkable likeness to the type-giving 
face on the cameo. The hair is in curls, but hangs down 
in plaits behind, the brow is low, the eyes full, and the 
mouth with its thin lips and cruel expression seems thor- 
oughly to express the character of the woman as known 
to us by history. The head is flat. There is insolence in 
the mouth, and a curl in the corner, noticeable also in the 
gem. One eye is larger than the other.’ They are not 
in line. The nose has been restored, so that we cannot 
compare it with that on the cameo. The rest agrees per- 
fectly, though the slope from the chin is not so perceptible 
in the bust owing to the difference in position of the head. 
The brows are straight, not arched. Not only are the eyes 
of different shapes, but the chin is on one side. The 
end of the chin is square, the mouth is small, the lips 
fuller on the left side than on the right, and the right 
corner drawn up. The expression of the face is different 
when seen from each side, owing to the singular lack of 
uniformity in the sides of the face. In the same gallery 
is a so-called young Britannicus, and the resemblance of 
this child, as far as the formation of the lower part of the 
head goes, to the Messalina above described is remarkable. 
Still more remarkable is that of the beautiful statue in the 
Lateran, where the resemblance is very close. The boy’s 
lips are fuller, but the whole structure of the jaws and 


246 WOMAN 


chin, and the curl of the lower lip, are the same as in the 
Messalina of Florence. If this be Britannicus, then the bust 
at Florence is that of his mother; and it is hard to say who 
else can be intended by this charming statue in military 
costume. 

‘‘A medical man of large experience, who at my request 
studied the bust of Messalina in the Florence gallery, in- 
forms me that it is that of a woman physically unsound; 
the flattening of the top of the head indicates an imperfect : 
mental development, and the general aspect of the face, 
evidently a close study from life without any attempt at 
hiding blemishes and idealizing, is that of a woman whose 
span of life would naturally be short. There would prob- 
ably be malformation of the chest. The face is that of 
one with feverish blood, whose flame of life burnt too 
fast. The face is not in itself sensual, nor at all animal, 
but it is insolent and cruel. The low, flat brow as well as 
the low, flat head show that she was deficient in all the 
higher and nobler qualities. In this bust the formation 
of the throat is peculiar. M. Mayor remarks: ‘ Thin lips, 
evil smile, ears hardly visible, jaw advancing and remark- 
ably massive, eyes close together, profoundly sunk under 
their arcade, nostrils fine and flexible, lips asymmetrical, 
the upper lip lifted on the right, as in a beast prepared to 
bite, the same characteristic feature observed in Caligula 
and commented on by Darwin. Facial asymmetry. The 
left eye highest and furthest from the nose (the same 
noticeable in Nero and Claudius, etc.). The look cruel 
rather than voluptuous. An ironical smile, the by no 
means uncommon mask worn by pathological corruption 
and nymphomania.’’’ M. Meniére, in a book entitled 
Medical Studies from the Latin Poets, also gives it as his 
opinion that Messalina was a victim of nymphomania. 
He says: ‘‘At the Salpétriére, there are Messalinas, cases 


WOMAN AT HER WORST 247 


which have absolutely nothing to do with morals.’’? This 
probably may safely be accepted as the true explanation 
of the case, if one can rid one’s mind of two suspicions. 
The first of these is that this much-talked-of asymmetry 
may be nothing other than inferior or careless artistic 
work. The sculptor may not have been able, or he may 
not have given himself the time, to carve both sides of the 
face so absolutely alike as to defy the criticism of sharp 
scientists, bent on discovering a cause for the poetical 
effect found in Juvenal and others. The mention of the 
satirist suggests our second suspicion, which is that in his 
astonishing account of the criminal appetites of Messalina 
he is straining after effect. 

Now, in regard to the first of these suspicions, we have 
the assurance of eminent students of art that, in their 
sculpture, the Romans were exceedingly jealous of exact 
representation. Viktor Rydberg says: ‘‘It is impossible 
to reproach the Roman art of portraiture with flattery. 
It gave what the Romans insisted on—rigid fidelity to 
nature. It made no exception in favor of the Czsars and 
their house, not even for the women. Proofs of this 
almost repulsive fidelity to nature are to be found. An 
empress, arrived at a more than mature age, is to be 
represented as Venus. It is possible that she would 
be glad to decline the honor. She belongs to that period 
in life when old ladies drape their withered beauties; but 
she has duties as Czsar’s spouse, and must resign herself 
to her fate. The goddess of love was the ancestress of 
the Julian race; and so her attributes, but not her beauty, 
descend to the empress. The artist has to immortalize 
her undraped charms, and he does it with almost brutal 
frankness, so that the little cupid, with finger to his mouth, 
at her feet, seems to sigh: ‘Oh! for a curtain.’ ’’ All this 
may be very true of particular instances; but we know 


248 WOMAN 


that there were cases when the artist did idealize, as would 
any sculptor who would place the head of a Cesar on the 
trunk of a Greek god, if he were so required. Again, at 
no period of the world’s history has the fraternity of 
artists been undiversified by members of varying ability, 
and the task of representing Messalina may have fallen 
into the hands of an inferior workman. Yet, after all, it is 
quite possible that the asymmetry in question may have 
characterized the face of the voluptuous empress; still, it 
should require something more than a little inequality of 
feature in a statue not absolutely identified to cause to 
accept, without a large grain of salt, Juvenal’s statement 
in regard to the wife of Claudius. That Messalina was in 
the habit of stealing forth from the imperial palace at night 
to occupy a booth in a brothel as a common demirep under 
the name of Lycisca is almost too improbable for.credence. 
It is possible that in this Juvenal enlarges on some allusion 
made by Agrippina the Younger, who wrote the empress’s 
memoirs and who was never a friend to Messalina. 

The palace of Claudius was full of freedmen—men who 
had been emancipated from slavery and had found the 
means to amass wealth and attain influence—and of Greek 
adventurers. These men performed services for the em- 
peror and his wife which as yet were not submitted to by 
the aristocratic or even the equestrian families. Such 
men as these had been the only associates of Claudius 
before his advancement, and they retained great influence 
with him during his reign. Messalina also was obliged to 
consider them. Their silence, in regard to her intrigues, 
had to be purchased; she was obliged to ally herself with 
them, in order that she might retain her influence over her 
husband; their selling of appointments and taking of bribes 
she had to countenance; and at last she fell into their toils 
and was brought to ruin by their machinations. 


WOMAN AT HER WORST 249 


At the commencement of the reign of Claudius, the two 
sisters of Caligula, Julia and Agrippina, were recalled 
from exile and their property restored to them. They 
were the daughters of Germanicus, descendants of the 
great Augustus; therefore, it was not long before they 
were the centre of a clique of dissatisfied nobles. Julia, 
who was as unprincipled as she was beautiful, seemed to 
attract the attention of Claudius. This was an offence 
which Messalina could not brook. Whatever might be 
the extent of her own failings, she could not afford to 
run the slightest risk of encountering a rival in the affec- 
tions of the emperor. It is remarkable, in an age of 
unparalleled laxity of morals, that when means were 
sought by which to bring about the destruction of an 
enemy, an accusation of adultery was usually successful. 
Those Romans were human enough to condemn in others 
what they condoned in themselves. Think of Messalina 
preaching of morals! She preferred charges of inconti- 
nence against Julia, and induced the easily influenced em- 
peror to send the unfortunate woman back to exile, where 
she was quickly followed by an assassin under the orders 
of the empress. This incident is all the more memorable 
on account of the fact that Seneca, whose conduct never 
very closely conformed to his teaching, was accused of 
being the accomplice of Julia and was banished at the 
same time. The fate of her sister was a warning to 
Agrippina. She saw how necessary it was to use wari- 
ness in order that she might not offend, or at least that 
she might not fall under the power of the empress; and 
Messalina, though she far outdid her in vice, was no match 
for the clever politician, Agrippina. 

It would prove as tiresome as it would be unprofitable 
to recount all the instances with which history illustrates 
Messalina’s cruelty and licentiousness; and even though 


250 WOMAN 


our object be to show to what depths of iniquity woman 
may descend under certain conditions, we will only refer 
to a few incidents in the empress’s profligate career. The 
first victim of her power and criminality was her own 
stepfather, Silanus; Suetonius conjectures that the reason 
for her resentment against her relative was that he dis- 
dained her improper advances. The manner of his taking- 
off was unique and indicates a genius for the invention of 
plots which may well be envied by the modern romancist. 
One morning, Narcissus, a favorite freedman, rushed into 
the presence of Claudius, showing signs of the intensest 
alarm. He had dreamed that the emperor had been killed 
by the hand of Silanus. Soon afterward, Messalina ap- 
peared and inquired with much perturbation of manner as 
to the safety of her husband. Her rest had been broken 
and her mind alarmed by a dream similar to that of Nar- 
cissus. Other things were insinuated which seemed to 
warrant this great and concurrent alarm on the part of the 
emperor’s friends, so that, his fears being thus cunningly 
worked upon, he at once gave orders for the execution of 
Silanus. 

Messalina was bent on acquiring for herself two desira- 
ble pieces of property. One was the beautiful gardens 
which had been commenced by Lucullus, and completed 
on a most magnificent scale by Valerius Asiaticus; the 
other was Mnester, a famous actor of that time. The 
gardens were owned by Asiaticus; and Poppzea, who was 
one of the most beautiful women of her day, seemed to 
interest the actor more than did the empress. The latter 
determined to remove both these hindrances to her desires 
at one stroke. She bribed Suilius, a man in high position 
and notoriously venal, to accuse Asiaticus and Poppzea 
of being engaged in an improper intrigue. Against the 
former, charges of a baser nature were included and acts 


WOMAN AT HER WORST 251 


prejudicial to the safety of the emperor were insinuated. 
Tacitus informs us that the unfortunate man was not 
allowed a hearing before the Senate, but was tried pri- 
vately in a chamber of the palace and in the presence of 
Messalina. When speaking in his own defence, he wrought 
so powerfully upon the feelings of Claudius that he would 
certainly have been acquitted; but Messalina, who could 
not restrain her own tears, as she left the room, whispered 
to Vitellius: ‘‘Let not the accused escape.’’ Then fol- 
lowed an exhibition of perfidy in which it is doubtful if 
a mere Judas would have been unprincipled enough to 
take the leading part. Vitellius began in the most sym- 
pathetic manner to plead with the emperor—who was 
already meditating the acquittal of Asiaticus—to remember 
the great services which had been rendered by the accused 
to the State, and to exercise clemency by allowing Asiat- 
icus to choose his own mode of death; a sort of clemency 
to which Claudius readily consented. Thus Messalina’s 
purpose was so far attained. ‘‘She hastened herself to 
accomplish the doom of Poppza, by suborning persons 
to drive her to a voluntary end by the terrors of imprison- 
ment; a catastrophe of which the emperor was so utterly 
unapprised, that a few days after, as her husband Scipio 
was at table with him, he asked why he had not brought 
his wife. Scipio answered that she was no more.”’ 

The Vitellius who accomplished the above described 
piece of finesse with such diplomacy was the father of the 
future emperor of the same name. His chief characteristic 
was his extraordinary facility and lack of conscience in 
the use of flattery. When asked by Caligula if Vitellius 
had not seen the emperor in conversation with Diana, 
Vitellius answered that it was not permitted to mere mor- 
tals like himself to witness the intercourse of deities. On 
one occasion, in the presence of Claudius, he begged the 


252 WOMAN 


gift of one of Messalina’s slippers. His request being 
granted by the empress, he placed his acquisition in his 
bosom, and ever afterward, at opportune moments, would 
draw it forth and kiss it in most devoted fashion. Thus 
he strongly entrenched himself in the favor of Messalina, 
and the modesty of his request did not lower him in the 
estimation of her husband. 

In April of A.D. 47 occurred the centenary festival of 
the founding of Rome. Vitellius saluted the emperor with: 
‘‘ May you often repeat these celebrations.’’ During the 
games, there took place an incident which was of special 
interest to Agrippina, the rival of Messalina, and which 
might easily have ended disastrously for her. The re- 
spective sons of these two women appeared in one of the 
games. Britannicus was then six years of age and Nero 
was nine; it was the first appearance of the latter upon 
that stage which it was afterward his unworthy ambition 
to hold. On this occasion, the populace were so incon- 
siderate as to place Agrippina and her son in a position of 
great jeopardy by showing for them the most enthusiastic 
partiality, while Britannicus was received in that silence 
which denoted ill will to his mother. 

Messalina was at this time meditating an enterprise 
which eclipsed all her former exploits and which she 
probably thought would conclusively determine her own 
future and that of her son. Thus Tacitus recounts the 
story: ‘‘She was so vehemently enamored of Caius Silius, 
the handsomest of the Roman youth, that she obliged him 
to divorce his wife, Julia Silana, a lady of high quality, and 
had him to herself. Nor was Silius blind to the danger 
and the malignity of his crime; but, as it was certain 
destruction to decline her suit, and there were some hopes 
of beguiling Claudius, and great rewards being held out 
to him, he was content to enjoy the present advantages 


WOMAN AT HER WORST 253 


and take the chance of what might happen thereafter. 
The empress proceeded not stealthily, but went to his 
house frequently, with a numerous train, accompanied 
‘him incessantly abroad, loaded him with presents and 
honors; and at last, as if the fortune of the Empire had 
been transferred with the emperor’s wife, at the house of 
Silius were now seen the slaves, freedmen, and equipage 
of the prince.’’ 

All this time, Claudius, ignorant of the conduct of his 
wife,—a fact which must be attributed to the complete 
subjection under which he was held by Messalina and the 
freedmen,—was exercising the functions of moral censor 
and rebuking the people for the immorality of their con- 
duct. What a spectacle to men, not to speak of the 
ancient deities, must have been the Roman government 
of those days! It is easy to see the connection between 
the licentiousness of the times and the decline of the State. 

Messalina, a course of the most promiscuous and unre- 
strained licentiousness having produced satiety, now pro- 
ceeded to an act of which the emperors had many times 
set the example: she repudiated Claudius, and united her- 
self with matrimonial solemnities to Silius. Caius Calig- 
ula had dismissed one wife to make room for another 
with scant if any ceremony; but for a woman to do the 
same thing was another matter. Tacitus says: ‘‘I am 
aware that it will appear fabulous that any human beings 
should have exhibited such recklessness of consequences; 
and that, in a city where everything was known and 
talked of, anyone, much more a consul-elect, should have 
met the emperor’s wife, on a stated day, in the presence 
of persons called in to seal the deeds, and that she should 
have heard the words of the augurs, entered the house of 
the husband, sacrificed to the gods, sat down with the 
guests at the nuptial banquet, and in every way comported 


254 WOMAN 


herself as though she had been given away in a marriage 
entirely lawful. ButI would not dress up my narrative 
with fictions to give it an air of marvel, rather than relate 
what has been stated to me or written by my seniors.’’ 

There are indications which seem to warrant the belief 
that if this affair had succeeded in its object it would not 
have appeared so thoroughly atrocious in the eyes of those 
who recorded it. The whole matter is shrouded in that 
mystery which often characterizes the transactions of 
rulers. Suetonius declares that it is beyond all belief that 
Claudius himself, at the marriage of Messalina with Silius, 
should have actually signed the writings relative to her 
dowry, induced thereto by the design of diverting from 
himself and transferring to another the effect of certain 
bad omens relative to the husband of Messalina. But, 
considering the superstition of the time, of which Claudius 
had an abundant share, and the cunning with which Mes- 
salina appears to have been endowed, it seems entirely 
probable that here we have the key of the whole situa- 
tion. As is suggested by Victor Duruy, Claudius, timid 
and credulous as he was, doubtless assured himself in 
accordance with the formalistic notions of those times, or 
was persuaded by others, that destiny would be satisfied 
with a marriage accomplished in conformity with legal 
formulas, but a union only in name. He expected that 
thereby he would save himself, and at the same time 
his honor might be avenged by the death of Silius, thus 
fulfilling the oracle. 

But Messalina and her lover had other plans. By work- 
ing on the old emperor’s fears, she had induced him to 
sign the writing, so that afterward it might appear as 
though he had given his consent to his own repudiation. 
Presuming on her Julian descent, she may have per- 
suaded herself that, once wedded to the young patrician 


WOMAN AT HER WORST 2b 


and consul-elect, together they might wrest the govern- 
ment from the feeble hand of Claudius and share the 
imperial dignity. 

While the emperor was away at Ostia, the nuptials were 
consummated. The marriage was solemnized in due and 
ample form, including all the ancient rites. Silius may 
have pretended to drag the seemingly unwilling bride from 
the embraces of her friends; but the yellow wedding veil 
was not necessary to hide any blushes that were likely to 
flush the cheek of Messalina. That the ceremonies were 
executed in due form may be concluded from the fact that 
Mnester, the popular actor, took part in them, probably as 
director. 

If Messalina counted on the fidelity of the freedmen, to 
whose friendship she had many times confided her safety, 
she erred: for on this occasion they fatally betrayed her. 
When Claudius was not being guided by his wife for her 
own purposes, he was under the control of the freedmen; 
what their position under Silius might be was problem- 
atical. Narcissus, the most active of these courtiers, hur- 
ried at once to Ostia, taking with him Calpurnia and 
Cleopatra, two women who had witnessed the marriage. 
It was necessary that he should thoroughly arouse the 
phlegmatic emperor and bring upon Messalina speedy de- 
struction, or his own doom would be accomplished. ‘‘ The 
marriage has been made public,’’ he said. ‘‘Unless you 
act promptly, Silius will be master of Rome.’’ He induced 
Claudius to transfer the command of the prztorians to him- 
self fora day. He hurried the emperor back to the city, 
taking every precaution that the latter should not be left 
alone with Messalina’s friends and that she herself should 
not be afforded the opportunity of a personal interview. 

This unwonted suddenness of action on the part of the 
emperor was precisely what Messalina and Silius did not 


256 WOMAN 


anticipate. Instead of intrenching themselves by ener- 
getic preparations, they wasted the time in voluptuous 
revelry. It was the season of the grape harvest, and 
all Rome was engaged in the customary celebration of 
the vintage. Messalina, in the gardens of the palace, 
was enacting a Bacchanalian scene. Men were treading 
the grapes and wine was flowing into casks; women in the 
scant attire of Bacchantes were dancing around them; and 
Messalina, with the symbolic thyrsus in her hand, joined 
in the revelry, accompanied by Silius, who was crowned 
with ivy. The utmost licentiousness of speech and action 
was the order of the day. At last, Vettius Valens, who 
himself had been a lover of the empress, climbed to the 
top of a high tree. ‘‘ What can you see from up there?’’ 
someone shouted. ‘‘I see,’’ he replied, ‘‘a storm coming 
from Ostia.’’ It was prophetic of what was soon to fall 
upon the chief participators in the scene. Rumors, quickly 
followed by the couriers of the emperor, announced that 
the latter was approaching in great indignation. Messa- 
lina was immediately deserted by all. The revellers went 
their own ways, and Silius repaired to the Forum as though 
with no thought but to attend to his official duties. The 
empress, thoroughly awakened at last to the gravity of 
her situation, began to make preparations for her defence. 
She saw that her only hope was in the easy, vacillating 
disposition of Claudius; she had never yet failed to manage 
him, and her assurance was great. Sending forth her two 
children, Octavia and Britannicus, to meet their father, 
she next induced Vibidia, the chief of the Vestals, to obtain 
audience with the emperor and implore his pardon for his 
guilty wife. 

Deserted by all the court with the exception of three 
persons, Messalina traversed the city on foot; and finding 
on the outskirts one of the carts used to convey the rubbish 


WOMAN AT HER WORST 257 


of the streets and gardens, she got into it and started forth 
to meet her outraged husband. Coming within hearing 
of the emperor, she began to call upon him to listen to 
the mother of his children; but Narcissus drowned her 
voice with the story of her crime and placed in the hands 
of Claudius a paper reciting all Messalina’s adulteries, so 
that, reading it, his‘eyes might not be turned upon his 
wife. Vibidia pleaded with the emperor that he should 
not allow the empress to be destroyed without a hearing; 
but she was sent away by the freedman, who advised her 
to attend to the proper duties of her vocation. 

Had it not been for the hasty manner in which this 
affair was brought to a fatal termination by Narcissus, 
Messalina would probably have won a pardon from her 
doting husband. It is true that when the emperor was 
taken to the house of Silius and there shown valuable 
furniture, heirlooms from his own palace, his indignation 
was great; he allowed himself to be conducted to the 
camp, where he made a short speech to the soldiers and 
constituted them judges of the criminals; but after having 
partaken of a sumptuous repast, his good nature, or rather 
his indifference, returned, and he ordered his servants to 
go and ‘‘acquaint the miserable woman that to-morrow 
she may plead her cause.’? The freedman knew that if 
Messalina obtained the opportunity to talk with the em- 
peror, her alluring methods would save her life, and Clau- 
dius would turn to make common cause with her against 
her accusers. Narcissus therefore hurried forth and com- 
manded the tribune on duty to ‘‘ despatch the execution,”’ 
for such, he said, was the emperor’s command. 

The soldiers found Messalina in the gardens of Lucullus, 
lying upon the ground, and by her side her mother, Lepida, 
who was seeking to persuade her wretched daughter not 
to wait for the executioner, but to die becomingly by her 


258 WOMAN 


own hand. This, however, the woman had not the cour- 
age to do. At times, she would recite to her mother the 
speeches with which she hoped to justify herself to her 
husband, and then she would give way to imprecations 
and vain lamentations. Thus she was employed when 
the door was burst open and the soldiers and Narcissus 
appeared before her. The freedman indulged his spite 
and taunted her with insolent reproaches. Then the un- 
happy woman, accepting the dagger from her mother’s 
hand, held it to her breast, but dared not strike; so the 
tribune, in mercy as well as in justice, despatched her 
with his sword. The news was carried to Claudius that 
‘‘Messalina was no more’’; and without asking how she 
died or by whose hand, he called for a cup of wine and 
continued the feast. 

Silius made no attempt to exonerate or defend himself, 
but simply asked for a speedy death. With him died 
a number of other illustrious knights, their offence being 
like his, though not so public or so heinous. Mnester the 
actor thought to save his life by reminding the emperor 
that it was by the latter’s own command that he had been 
obliged to submit to the orders of Messalina; but though 
this plea caused some hesitation in the mind of Claudius, 
it was overruled by the merciless freedmen. It was thus 
also with Traulus Montanus, a young man of remarkable 
beauty; he could urge that only on one occasion had he 
been summoned to the apartments of the empress, and 
then immediately cast off; this plea, however, did not 
avail to save him. 

It has been our purpose in this chapter to show how, in 
the midst of artistic surroundings, in a polished society, 
at a time when poetical and philosophical literature was 
universally cultivated, women, by the enormity of their 
excesses, touched the lowest depth of moral depravity. 


WOMAN AT HER WORST 259 


All that appeared necessary was to piece together the frag- 
mentary information provided by the ancient historians 
and so present a picture of this single astounding char- 
acter, Messalina. She was the ultimity of feminine vice. 
She did not stand alone; but in her there was a unique 
combination of extraordinary political power, unbounded 
opportunity for lawlessness, and inordinate concupiscence. 

But one human life is not sufficient in which to display 
all the possible varieties of moral unrestraint. Messalina 
died, and Agrippina reigned in her stead. In the daughter 
of Germanicus was exemplified a character very different 
from that of the woman we have just dismissed. Agrip- 
pina was less wanton, but she was not more womanly. 
Messalina sacrificed human life in caprice, Agrippina as- 
signed men to death in cold calculation. The aim of the 
one was pleasure, the object of the other was power. 
Messalina was a most unworthy mother; Agrippina con- 
travened every other womanly instinct in order that her 
son might reign. 

After Messalina’s death, Claudius declared before the 
pretorians: ‘‘As I have been unhappy in my marriages, 
I am resolved henceforth to remain single; and if I should 
not, I give you leave to stab me.’’ But he was not able 
to persist in this resolution; there were many women who, 
for the sake of bearing the name of empress, sought matri- 
monial union with him. Agrippina, however, had marked 
that position for her own, and she was intellectually the 
strongest, as well as one of the most beautiful women in 
Rome. She was now thirty-four years of age. It was 
no new undertaking for her to bestir herself in the search 
for a husband. At the age of thirteen she had been mar- 
ried to Cnzus Domitius Ahenobarbus; but he had died in 
A.D. 40, leaving her with Nero, their only child. On her 
return from exile at the beginning of Claudius’s reign, she 


260 WOMAN 


had endeavored to form a union with a powerful patrician 
named Galba, who had a wife then living; but for her 
pains she got her face slapped by Galba’s mother-in-law. 
She was soon married, however, to an orator called Pas- 
sienus, who was a man remarkable for his wit, wealth, and 
good nature. He died before Agrippina had set her hopes 
upon a marriage with Claudius. 

It was Agrippina’s determination to be empress, in order 
that her son might be emperor. Some years previous, an 
astrologer had said of the boy that he would reign, but 
that he would be the death of his mother. ‘‘ Let me die, 
then,’’ said she, ‘‘so he but reign.’’ 

Her marriage with Claudius would be illegal and incest- 
uous, he being her uncle. But Agrippina aroused the 
emperor’s desire for the match by the endearments for 
which her relationship provided the opportunity, and the 
complacent Senate passed an enactment that henceforth 
such marriages should be lawful. Before the nuptials 
were celebrated, Agrippina obtained the promise of the 
hand of Octavia, the daughter of Claudius by Messalina, 
for her son, thus doubly securing her position; this was 
done despite the fact that Octavia had already been be- 
trothed to another man. Being thus able to have her way 
before marriage, it is not wonderful that after that event 
Claudius should be wholly under his wife’s rule. Tacitus 
says: ‘From this moment the city assumed a different 
character, and a woman had the control of everything. 
She, however, did not, like Messalina, mock and trample 
upon the interests of the State in the extravagance of her 
lewdness. The despotism exercised was as thorough as 
though it were under the direction of a man. In her public 
conduct she was grave and rigid, frequently haughty and 
overbearing. No departure was observable in her domestic 
deportment, unless it were necessary to support her power: 


WOMAN AT HER WORST 261 


but an insatiable thirst for money was veiled under the pre- 
text of its being used to maintain the imperial authority.’’ 

As an instance of Agrippina’s cruelty, it may be men- 
tioned that she brought about the condemnation of Lollia, 
who had been her rival for the hand of Claudius, and com- 
pelled the unfortunate woman to destroy herself. Cal- 
purnia, another illustrious lady, she also doomed to ruin, 
for no other reason than that the emperor once made a 
casual remark upon her beauty. 

The advancement of her son was the object ever before 
the eyes of Agrippina; for this she lived and for the attain- 
ment of this consummation she spared no promising effort, 
whether lawful or otherwise. Through the influence of 
Pallas, one of the favorite freedmen, she brought it to pass 
that her son was adopted by the emperor as his own, and 
the historians aver that as a reward for this service Pallas 
received favors which belonged solely to Claudius. Step 
by step, Nero was preferred, and at the same time the son 
of Messalina and the emperor was depreciated. Britan- 
nicus seems to have been a boy of spirit. Because he 
persisted in addressing her son by the name Ahenobarbus 
| Brazenbeard], Agrippina placed over him tutors whose 
duty it was to teach him to respect the decree of the 
Senate, by which the more honorable name of Nero had 
been conferred on her offspring. Still, everything did not 
go forward quite to Agrippina’s satisfaction. She found 
in Narcissus almost as great an enemy as had Messalina, 
and even the emperor was somewhat uncertain in his 
favor; on one occasion, he was heard to mutter something 
to the effect that he seemed fated to suffer the iniquities 
of his wives, and then to punish them. Nero was now 
seventeen years of age, and through the shrewd policy 
of his mother had not only been named by the emperor 
as his successor, but had been generally recognized as the 


262 WOMAN 


heir-apparent by the people; it needed only the death of 
Claudius to raise him to the imperial throne. 

New wants create new professions. In despotic govern- 
ments, the lives of certain persons are often too prolonged 
in the opinion of others who have their own purposes to 
pursue, and there never have been lacking those who in 
such a juncture could make themselves extremely useful. 
In the time of Agrippina there lived a woman named 
Locusta, who, as Tacitus informs us, was a famous artist in 
the mixing of drugs. Her skill seems always to have had 
for its object, not the cure of patients who were confided 
to her care, but their judicious taking-off. The above- 
mentioned historian informs us that Agrippina allowed this 
woman to employ her art upon Claudius; and as no other 
writer approximate to that age seeks to purge the empress 
of this accusation, it must be reckoned to her account. 
‘In fact,’’ says Tacitus, ‘‘ all the particulars of this trans- 
action were soon afterward so thoroughly known, that 
the writers of those times are able to recount how the 
poison was poured into a dish of mushrooms, of which he 
was particularly fond; but whether it was that his senses 
were stupefied, or from the wine he had drunk, the effect 
of the poison was not immediately perceived.’’ Agrippina 
therefore became dismayed; but as her life was at stake, 
she thought little of the odium of her present proceedings, 
and called in the aid of Xenophon the physician, whom she 
had already implicated in her guilty project. It is believed 
that he, as if he purposed to assist Claudius in his efforts 
to vomit, put down his throat a feather besmeared with 
deadly poison. 

After the death of Claudius, Agrippina discovered that 
the day was ill-omened, so that she hesitated to have her 
son proclaimed. The fact of the emperor’s death was 
therefore kept a secret for some hours. The people were 


WOMAN AT HER WORST 263 


so far imposed upon that they believed that Claudius was 
improving and desired to be entertained. Buffoons were 
introduced, who played their antics and cracked their jokes 
in the presence of the corpse; the empress, in the mean- 
time, feigning to be overcome with grief, was clasping the 
young Britannicus in her arms and declaring that he was 
«the very image of his father.’’ 

At noon, it being the thirteenth of October in the year 
54, the death of Claudius was announced, and Nero was 
received by the soldiers with shouts of joy. The Senate 
confirmed his accession, and that night, when the tribune 
asked the new emperor for the watchword, he gave ‘‘ the 
best of mothers.”’ 

Claudius, unless the Roman historians are to be con- 
sidered entirely unworthy of credence, had been murdered 
by his wife; but, notwithstanding this fact and also that 
she had despised him while he lived, she hastened to pro- 
cure his apotheosis as soon as he was dead. How much 
those divine honors which were decreed to deceased mem- 
bers of the imperial family meant to the Romans may be 
gathered from the fragments which have been preserved 
of a satire written by Seneca at this time; the satire also 
indicates the contempt into which the ancient religion had 
fallen. Seneca claims that from him who saw Drusilla, 
the sister of Caligula, ascend into heaven, he derived his 
information as to what happened in Olympus when ‘‘a 
respectable-looking old man, with shaking head, lame foot, 
and some kind of threat upon his lips ’’ [Claudius ] arrived 
thither. The Olympian Senate, notwithstanding the labors 
of Hercules on his behalf, voted that Claudius was not to 
be admitted. 

After the inauguration of Nero’s reign, there followed 
for the Empire five years of what seemed to the people, 
so accustomed were they to the worst horrors in the name 


264 WOMAN 


of government, a wise and upright administration. Nero 
was to a certain extent under the influence of Seneca and 
Burrhus, men who perhaps were as good as any of their 
time. Credit must be given Agrippina for having at least 
selected the best men she could find to take charge of 
the education of her son. Nevertheless, during those five 
years occurred her own murder and that of Britannicus. 
After the death of the latter, Locusta—for whom Nero 
had found ample employment—was permitted to retire to 
the enjoyment of the immense wealth with which she had 
been rewarded for her services to those in power; it was 
stipulated, however, that she should train other women in 
the practice of her art. 

Agrippina had done and suffered much to secure the 
Empire for her son; but she never contemplated that he 
would reign alone while she lived. She expected to oc- 
cupy a throne by his side. Her officious dominance soon 
became intolerable to the young emperor. He also fell 
under the fascination of the beautiful but unprincipled 
Poppza, who refused to share his palace with so jealous 
and imperious a mother-in-law. Bitter must have been the 
reflections of Agrippina when she found herself not only 
disappointed of this part of her ambition, but also saw that 
her son was impatiently awaiting her death. Indeed, he 
was devising means to bring it to pass; but she who was 
herself so well practised in the methods of assassination 
was not an easy victim. The sword was too open a 
method, and she was believed to have prepared herself, 
by taking antidotes, against all kinds of poisons. But 
there was a genius at the court. Anicetus, an enfran- 
chised slave, now commander of the fleet, could construct 
a vessel that would fall to pieces at sea at any given 
moment. Agrippina was invited to join her son at Baie. 
He was all affection and again seemed willing to commit 


WOMAN AT HER WORST 265 


himself to her influence. A magnificent vessel was pro- 
vided to convey her to and from the villa where he had 
provided an entertainment. As she was returning over 
the smooth waters, lighted by the brilliant stars, the roof 
of the cabin, which had been weighted with lead, suddenly 
fell in, killing a man who belonged to her train. Agrip- 
pina and Aceronia, her woman attendant, escaped from 
this part of the prearranged accident; but the boat then 
upsetting, they were thrown into the sea. Aceronia, in 
order that she might be rescued, cried out that she was 
the emperor’s mother, and she was immediately killed 
by oars and boathooks in the hands of the crew. Her 
mistress, however, suspecting at once the real nature of 
what had taken place, remained quiet, and swam until 
she was picked up by passing boats and conveyed to her 
own villa. 

At the prospect of his mother’s death, Nero exclaimed: 
‘‘At last I shall reign’’; but when the news reached him 
that the cunningly contrived shipwreck had proved a 
failure, his fury knew no bounds. At that juncture, a mes- 
senger arrived from Agrippina to say that his mistress had 
been preserved—she deemed it prudent to appear to take 
it for granted that her son was not implicated in the 
attempt upon her life. While the messenger was speak- 
ing, Anicetus picked up a dagger from the floor and pre- 
tended that the man had dropped it; it was then declared 
that Agrippina must have sent him to assassinate her son. 
A party of men were at once sent to her villa. They 
broke into her bedchamber. ‘‘If you are come for mur- 
derous purposes,’’ she cried, ‘‘I will not believe that it is 
by the order of my son.’’ She was quickly despatched 
with many wounds. 

In the busts and medal portraits of Agrippina that have 
been preserved we see a face remarkably suggestive of 


266 WOMAN 


refinement of character. Looking at that face and remem- 
bering the accusations which have been laid against her, 
one is naturally inclined to take up a brief in her defence. 
It does not seem possible that she could have been guilty 
of these crimes; nor, indeed, in other times and circum- 
stances would it have been possible. It was not a de- 
praved will like that of Messalina that led Agrippina to 
the adoption of evil courses. The causes were several. 
She was proud; she had an insatiate craving for power; 
above all, her unyielding will was wholly bent on the 
project of placing her son upon the imperial throne. Had 
she lived at a time when violent measures were not per- 
missible, her methods would probably have been more 
humane; but her ambition would doubtless have been as 
great and her determination as tenacious. In her age, 
murder was a common expedient for clearing the way to a 
prize. In her time, female modesty was a quality almost 
impossible to be retained, and but little valued in those 
few by whom it was preserved. To acquit Agrippina of 
murder and unchastity would be not only to fault history 
but to impute to the empress an innocence which in the 
nature of the case it was impossible she should possess. 


Chapter X 
The GAomen of Mecadent Rome 


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THE WOMEN OF DECADENT ROME 


AT the period with which we are now engaged, the vast 
majority of the people of Rome were giving their attention 
to one all-absorbing occupation—that of amusing them- 
selves. The wealthy had little else to do; the chief in- 
dustries of the poor contributed to this end. Never in the 
history of the world has a nation been so completely given 
over to pleasure. Production was almost entirely limited 
to such occupations as had for their object the extravagant 
supply of the luxuries of art and entertainment; common 
necessaries, such as wheat, were extorted from the prov- 
inces. Agriculture had become almost unknown in Italy. 
The rich men no longer, like the great republican patri- 
cians, prided themselves on their skill in tilling the soil; 
it better suited their tastes, and was more lucrative, to 
farm taxes. ‘‘We have abandoned the care of our ground 
to the lowest of our slaves,’’ said Columella, ‘‘and they 
treat it like barbarians. We have schools of rhetoricians, 
geometers, and musicians. I have even seen where they 
teach the lowest trades, such as the art of cooking, or of 
dressing the hair; but nowhere have I found for agricul- 
ture a teacher or a pupil. Meanwhile, even in Latium, 
that we may avoid famine, we must bring our corn from 

269 


270 WOMAN 


foreign countries and our wine from the Cyclades, Beetica, 
and Gaul.’’ The land had come to be held almost wholly by 
the few who were exceedingly rich. Their interests were 
in Rome. For the country they cared nothing, except as 
it provided them with luxurious retreats where they might, 
for a short space, renew their enervated faculties after 
the dissipations of the city. Their land they gave up to 
pasture and cattle raising, as being more profitable and 
requiring less care than tilling the soil. Thus there was 
no employment or means of subsistence for poor freedmen 
in the country; and so they flocked to the cities, crowding 
the wretched imsul@, or tenements, and depending mainly 
upon the free distributions of corn for their living. The 
mass of the people, however, were drawn to Rome and 
the other great Italian cities as much by their desire to 
participate in the feverish life of the times as they were 
driven thither by lack of employment in the country. 
These were the people who amused Nero by fighting for 
places in the Great Circus; these were the people who 
howled for bread and for games, and rewarded an ample 
supply of the same by supporting tyrants in their mon- 
strous excesses. When it is remembered that all domes- 
tic labor, as well as all work belonging to many other 
branches of industry, was performed by slaves, we are 
necessarily left to suppose that the proletariat of Rome 
had little with which to occupy itself beyond the public 
exhibitions and the pothouses, of which there existed an 
enormous number; great numbers of men were, however, 
required for the immense armies which garrisoned the 
provinces. 

Of the domestic life of the common people of Rome we 
have only the most meagre information. We know that 
they inhabited huge tenements, in which small apartments 
were rented at excessive rates. Housekeeping in these 


THE WOMEN OF DECADENT ROME 271 


tenements must have been conducted on a very simple 
scale, as one of the comic writers pictures a poor family 
moving to other quarters and carrying all their effects in 
their hands at one journey. Yet the men who issued 
thence wore the foga of the Roman citizen, tattered though 
it might be and having no other significance than the mere 
fact that its wearers were not slaves. For these men 
there was little occupation except wandering about the 
city in search of amusement and the opportunity to make 
a little gain by any means that came to hand. Of course, 
there were trades and commerce, the workshop and the 
store; but slavery made it impossible for a large proportion 
of the impecunious citizens of Rome to make an honor- 
able living by means of their own labor. There was a 
larger army of the unemployed than our modern cities 
can show. Yet the Roman government, laying tribute 
as it did upon the whole civilized world, could keep the 
citizens of Rome from starving. For the women, beyond 
their simple domestic duties, the field of honest industry 
was yet more limited. They were employed as profes- 
sional mourners to sing songs of lamentation at funerals; 
they could work at some few mechanical trades, such as 
cloth weaving; they could keep a shop. Occasionally, 
there was a woman of exceptional talent who made large 
profits by means of decorative art; among the wall pic- 
tures of Pompeii there is one which represents a female 
artist engaged in painting upon canvas a figure of Bacchus 
from a statue which serves her for a model. We read of 
laia, who, though a Greek, lived in Rome and of whom 
Pliny says that she was very successful in painting por- 
traits, and especially in engraving female figures upon 
ivory. One matron found a unique occupation; she made 
large sums yearly by fattening and selling thrushes for the 
tables of epicures. But the majority of women who were 


272 WOMAN 


able to make a living did so by virtue of their personal 
attractions and by ministering to the voluptuousness of the 
wealthy, as harp players, dancers, and in other avocations 
still more questionable. 

During the reign of Nero, there were no wars of any 
great moment. The old Roman passion for territorial 
expansion was in abeyance. The government was con- 
centrated in the person of a man whose ambitions were 
histrionic rather than military. Nero was part actor, part 
clown, wholly debased; what could be expected from the 
associates of such a man, or from the people who tolerated 
him? If it be true that every nation has the government 
of which it is deserving, then the officers and people of the 
Roman Empire in Nero’s time must be accounted as subor- 
dinates and supernumeraries in a fatuous burlesque which 
frequently deepened into mad tragedy. The way to the 
emperor’s favor was not through victorious conflicts with 
the enemies of the State, but by means of the lavishment 
of fulsome applause of his own imbecile performances in 
the theatre and the circus. Nero never entered Rome 
in military triumph, as had his predecessors, followed by 
wagons filled with plunder and a train of captives who 
had been formidable to the State; he was content to win 
crowns from a debased people who hypocritically admired 
his voice and his acting, and to triumphantly enter Rome 
as conqueror in the Grecian games. ‘‘ He made his entry 
into the city riding in the same chariot in which Augustus 
had triumphed. For the occasion he wore a purple tunic 
and a cloak embroidered with golden stars, having on his 
head the crown won at Olympia, and in his right hand 
that which was given him at the Parthian games; the rest 
were carried in a procession before him, with inscriptions 
denoting the places where they had been won, from whom, 
and in what plays or performances. A train followed him 


THE WOMEN OF DECADENT ROME 273 


with loud acclamations, crying out that they were the 
emperor’s attendants, and the soldiers of his triumph. He 
suspended the sacred crowns in his chambers, about his 
beds, and caused statues of himself to be erected, in the 
attire of a harper, and had his likeness stamped upon coins, 
in the same dress. He offered his friendship or avowed 
open enmity to many, according ds they were lavish or 
Sparing in giving him their applause.’’ Thus the Roman 
historian describes the order of that day, and from this we 
may judge of the environment of the principal women of 
Rome in those times. 

Virtue and womanly dignity were inconsiderable quali- 
ties in the days of Nero. The ladies of the court could 
only attain and hold their positions by means of their 
personal attractions and by taking part in excesses from 
which every vestige of virtue was eradicated. Prostitu- 
tion had now become fashionable. It is possible to give 
Messalina the benefit of a doubt as to whether or not she 
were a mere freak of nature. Agrippina was monstrously 
ambitious and as merciless as a tigress whose young are 
threatened; but she adopted the only means which her 
times afforded. In Poppza, however, we see the typical 
woman of decadent Rome—of ordinary intellect, intensely 
voluptuous, and devoid of natural affection. 

Poppzea was the daughter of that beautiful but wanton 
lady of the same name whom Messalina had forced to 
seek death by her own hand. In this instance, heredity 
claimed its vindication; to the daughter descended the 
loveliness of person and also the lax principles which 
characterized the mother. ‘‘ This woman,”’’ says Tacitus, 
‘possessed everything but an honest mind. Her wealth 
was equal to the dignity of her birth; she had a fascinating 
conversation, and was not deficient in wit. She observed 
an outward decorum, but in her heart was wanton; she 


274 WOMAN 


rarely appeared in public, and when she did she wore a 
veil, either because she did not want to glut people’s eyes 
with her beauty, or because she thought a veil became 
her.’’ It is said.of her that she employed all the recipes 
at that time known—and they were very numerous—to 
prevent the inroads which age will make. She covered 
her face with a mask when out of doors, in order to shield 
it from the sun; and when at last her mirror informed her 
that the charms of that face were beginning to wane, she 
cried: ‘‘ Let me die rather than lose my beauty!’’—a wish 
by no means unnatural, for in the game which she so des- 
perately played her beauty was her only stake. Nero mar- 
ried her solely for her loveliness of person. The conjugal 
fidelity which stands the test of changing years was not 
then common; and the law did not enforce it upon the un- 
willing. Juvenal doubtless truly pictures the contretemps 
which women like Poppza had to fear: 


‘*Sertorius what I say disproves, 
For though his Bibula is poor, he loves. 
True! but examine him; and on my life, 
You’ll find he loves the beauty, not the wife. 
Let but a wrinkle on her forehead rise, 
And time obscure the lustre of her eyes; 
Let but the moisture leave her flaccid skin, 
And her teeth blacken, and her cheeks grow thin; 
And you shall hear the insulting freedman say: 
‘Pack up your trumpery, madam, and away! 
Nay, bustle, bustle; here you give offence, 
With snivelling night and day;—take your nose hence!’ ”” 


We have no very trustworthy representation of Pop- 
pzea’s appearance. There are in existence medals show- 
ing her reputed portrait, especially a Greek coin with the 
head of Nero on one side and that of his wife on the other; 
but as the former is certainly not a good likeness, it is 
reasonable to suppose that the other is no better. Her 


THE WOMEN OF DECADENT ROME 275 


face, as it is here portrayed, is of the ideal Greek type— 
straight brows, and nose almost in a line with the fore- 
head. There is also a bust in existence, which, according 
to archeological students, may be held to represent either 
the mythical Clytie or the famous wife of Nero. Her hair 
is said to have been remarkably beautiful. It was very 
abundant and of a golden amber color. Nero composed 
verses upon it. 

There were serious obstacles between Poppza and the 
imperial throne which she speedily manifested an ambi- 
tion to share—obstacles which, in more virtuous days, or 
among women possessing the slightest degree of modesty, 
would have been absolutely insurmountable; but with the 
rulers of Rome in those times nothing was impossible 
except self-control for the sake of honor. Nero was mar- 
ried to Octavia, the daughter of Messalina and Claudius. 
Poppzea was also married. She had been divorced from 
Rufus Crispinus, a Roman knight, to whom she had borne 
a son, and was now joined in matrimony to Otho, the 
profligate confidant of the young emperor. There are 
indications that Otho was fond of his unprincipled wife. 
She was the choicest treasure in his magnificently fur- 
nished house. He boasted of her beauty to Nero, and 
excited the young ruler’s pride as well as his passion by 
telling him that though he were the emperor he could not 
vie with his subject in the possession of such an example 
of female loveliness. He even permitted Nero to visit his 
wife, but, in his self-esteem, did not count upon the result. 
Otho maintained Poppzea in inordinate splendor; but he 
was not,the emperor. He could give her incalculable 
riches; but he could not make her the mistress of the 
world. Poppzea saw her opportunity. She lavished upon 
Nero all the powers of her coquetry; she intimated that 
she was smitten with regard for him; she allowed him to 


276 WOMAN 


flatter himself that he had won her. But she would hear 
of nothing but marriage. Nero was at her feet; but, 
having so far attained her end, she would listen to no 
protestations until he removed all hindrances to their 
union. She would be empress or nothing. With her 
beauty for a bait, she led Nero on to the committal of the 
most heinous crimes. Agrippina was murdered because 
Poppza taunted Nero with being under the care of a gov- 
erness. ‘‘ Why did he delay to marry her?’’ Tacitus rep- 
resents her as asking. ‘‘Had he objections to her person 
or her ancestry? Or was he dissatisfied because she had 
given proof of her fertility? Did he doubt the sincerity of 
her affection? No; the truth must be that he was afraid 
that if she were his wife she would expose the insolence 
and the rapaciousness of his mother. But if Agrippina 
would bear no daughter-in-law who was not virulently 
opposed to her son, she desired to be sent to Otho. She 
was ready to withdraw to any quarter of the earth, rather 
than behold the emperor’s degradation.’’ Otho, in order 
that he might be out of the way, had been appointed 
Governor of Lusitania. 

It was some time after the death of Agrippina before 
Octavia was removed, first by repudiation and then by 
death. We shall have occasion to notice the character of 
this estimable woman in a later chapter. In the mean- 
time, the emperor did not have to wait wholly unrewarded 
by the favors of Poppzea. He was entirely under her in- 
fluence; but the memory of the remorse which had seized 
him after the murder of his mother restrained him, for a 
while, from adding to that crime another of equal atrocity. 
Again, however, Poppzea cunningly worked upon his fears, 
insinuating that unless he reinstated Octavia, whom he 
hated, as empress, the people would give her another 
husband, whom they would make emperor. This sealed 


THE WOMEN OF DECADENT ROME 277 


Octavia’s doom; shortly afterward, her head was brought 
to Rome and laid at the feet of her infamous successor. 
Poppza was at last the empress in name as well as in fact; 
and when she presented Nero with a daughter, he made a 
mockery of the title by naming her, as well as the child, 
Augusta. But the little one soon died, and the Senate was 
obliged to console the father by decreeing that his infant 
daughter had become a goddess. 

All the historians agree that subsequent to his con- 
nection with Poppza, Nero deteriorated in his character, 
or at least in his conduct. The influence of the woman 
seemed to bring out and encourage the worst that was in 
him. For Poppza, however, there was compensation; 
her principal gain, in her own estimation, may perhaps be 
best typified by the palace which Nero built. She cared 
little for political power; imperial magnificence was the 
attraction that enticed her. Surely never did woman have 
her wish in this respect so completely gratified as did the 
wife of Nero! He built himself a house, having first de- 
stroyed many another in order to furnish a site. The 
author of Rome of To-day and Yesterday says: ‘‘ It was upon 
the palace for the emperor that Severus and Celer, the 
first architects ever mentioned by name in Roman history, 
lavished all the resources of his boundless wealth and their 
skill. It seems so extravagant to say that the Golden 
House extended over an area of nearly a square mile in 
the very midst of the city, that if there had not been left, 
from point to point, remains of it over a considerable part 
of this area, the statement of the old writers to that effect 
would not have seemed worthy of belief.’’ By the Golden 
House is, of course, not meant one continuous building; but 
there was an enclosure by means of three colonnades, 
each a mile in length, and an entrance portico somewhat 
narrower on the side opposite the Forum. Within this 


278 WOMAN 


enclosure were great courts resembling parks, fountains, 
and fishponds, besides the residence buildings and baths. 
‘‘In parts,’’ says Suetonius, ‘‘this house was entirely 
overlaid with gold and adorned with jewels and mother- 
of-pearl. The supper rooms were vaulted, and compart- 
ments of the ceilings, inlaid with ivory, were made to 
revolve and scatter flowers; moreover, they were provided 
with pipes which shed essences on the guests. The chief 
banqueting room was circular, and revolved perpetually, 
night and day, in imitation of the motion of the celestial 
bodies. The baths were supplied from the sea and from 
Albula. Upon the dedication of this magnificent house, 
when finished, all Nero said in approval of it was: ‘ Well, 
now at last I am housed as a man should be!’ ”’ 

Amidst this magnificent splendor, Poppza lived. We 
will endeavor to recount her manner of living as closely 
as we may, in order that we may know what was the ideal 
existence in the estimation of the majority of the women 
of her time. 

The chief concern of Poppza, as of all the women of 
that period whom age or nature had not unkindly relieved 
of this responsibility, was the preservation of her beauty. 
The Roman authors have mercilessly laid bare the methods 
and mysteries to which their ladies resorted for this pur- 
pose. No pains or discomforts were avoided in order to 
retain the freshness of complexion which was apt, in the 
dissipated life of the palace, quickly to disappear. Pop- 
pza is reputed to have invented many cosmetics and face 
washes, and especially a mask which was worn at night, 
which was composed of dough mixed with ass’s milk; 
while for the purpose of removing wrinkles another mask, 
composed of rice, was worn. Juvenal mocks at the ap- 
pearance of the ladies with their faces thus encased, 
‘ridiculous and swollen with the great poultice.’’? He 


THE WOMEN OF DECADENT ROME 279 


suggests that what is fomented so often, anointed with so 
many ointments, and receives so many poultices, ought 
to be considered a sore rather than a face. It was held to 
be of great importance that these applications should be 
washed off with ass’s milk, and the old writers assert that 
Poppza kept large herds of these animals in order that she 
might bathe in their warm milk every day. The Roman 
ladies were by no means averse to assisting nature in 
augmenting their charms; they used white and red paints 
with artistic effect. These were ordinarily moistened with 
saliva, possibly on account of the Roman superstition in 
regard to the efficacy of lustration. The brows and eye- 
lashes were frequently dyed; and so careful were the 
women to render nature all the assistance possible, that 
even the delicate veins of the temples were heightened in 
their effect by a faint touch of blue. The teeth had always 
received most careful attention. There were many pastes 
and powders known to the Roman beauty. Artificial teeth 
made of ivory had been in use from very ancient times, 
for in the laws of the Twelve Tables there was one which 
prohibited the deposition of gold in the graves of the dead, 
excepting the material used for the fastening of false teeth. 
‘©You have your hair curled, Galla,’’ says Juvenal, ‘‘at 
a hair dresser’s in Suburra Street, and your eyebrows are 
brought to you every morning. Atnight, you remove your 
teeth as you do your dress. Your charms are enclosed in 
a hundred different pots, and your face does not go to bed 
with you.’’? Many instances are recorded of the costli- 
ness of the attire of these Roman ladies. They wore silk 
which was sold at its weight in gold. There was a kind of 
muslin so transparent that it was known as ‘‘ woven air.”’ 
Tunics were ornamented with figures embroidered in gold 
thread, and encrusted with pearls and precious stones. 
Pliny relates that he saw Lollia Paulina wearing a dress 


280 WOMAN 


which was covered with emeralds and pearls from her 
head to her feet. She carried with her the receipts to 
show that upon her person she wore a value of forty mil- 
lion sesterces; and this was not her best dress, for the 
occasion was only a second-class betrothal feast. At an 
entertainment given by Claudius on Lake Fucinus, Agrip- 
pina wore a garment which was woven entirely of gold 
thread. 

The women of Poppzea’s day seem to have been fully 
acquainted with the benefits to be derived from physical 
exercise. Agrippina, as we have seen, could swim with 
no less expertness than Cleelia of ancient renown. Indeed, 
Juvenal pictures the women breaking the ice and plunging 
into the river in the depth of winter, and diving beneath 
the eddies of the Tiber at early dawn. This, however, 
was for religious and propitiatory reasons. The same 
satirist refers with evident disapproval to women exer- 
cising with heavy dumb-bells in the same fashion as did 
the men when preparing for the bath. It is apparent that 
in this age women deemed it to be in keeping with their 
rights to share, as closely as nature would permit, in the 
pursuits and the privileges of the men; just as there were 
men who, beyond the boundary set by nature, usurped 
the position which belonged to women. 

We have spoken of the bath; and it being so large a 
feature in Roman city life and so good an illustration— 
though the most innocent—of the luxury of the times, it 
will not be amiss to afford a little space to its description. 

The Golden House and many of the palaces of the 
wealthy contained baths which, while not on so large a 
plan as the public therme, were doubtless even more 
luxuriously appointed. We will take, however, the public 
baths for our example. In the period of the early Republic, 
the Romans, though scrupulously cleanly as the warmth 


THE WOMEN OF DECADENT ROME 281 


of their country required, contented themselves with 
washing in the Tiber. Every ninth day was deemed 
sufficient for a complete immersion. As the arts of civili- 
zation advanced, tubs were placed in the houses, and a 
daily bath before the evening meal became customary. 
The first aqueduct for the conveyance of water into the 
city was built by Appius Claudius about B.C. 310. Seven 
or eight others were afterward constructed, notably that 
of Agrippa; so that no city was ever better supplied with 
water than was ancient Rome. This made possible the 
public baths, which early made their appearance and which 
must have been such a boon to the people. At first these 
baths were solely for lavatory purposes, and were neither 
so magnificent nor so much a social feature as they after- 
ward became. Seneca relates that at first the azdiles 
superintended not only the decorum of the bathers, but 
also the temperature of the baths. Under Augustus, these 
public conveniences began to be characterized with that 
magnificence of structure in which all the emperors de- 
lighted. A great many of these buildings were erected in 
various parts of the city; as many as eight hundred have 
been enumerated. Some of these were marvellous, not 
only for their dimensions, but also for the costliness of the 
material and the artistic decorations. The baths of Cara- 
calla were adorned with two hundred columns of the finest 
marble and furnished with sixteen hundred seats of marble, 
and it is said that eighteen thousand persons might con- 
veniently bathe there at one time. Yet these were excelled 
both in size and magnificence by the Therme Dioclesiane. 
The gift of these establishments was one of the means 
by which the emperors kept themselves in favor with the 
people. For a trifling sum, a citizen of any degree could 
repair to this scene of magnificence and luxury, where 
there were crowds of slaves to minister to his comfort 


282 WOMAN 


in a style which might arouse the envy of the proudest 
Oriental monarch. Besides the various kinds of hot and 
cold baths, swimming tanks, etc., there were stately 
porticoes for games and exercise, there were gymnasiums, 
magnificent galleries for the exhibition of specimens of 
painting and sculpture, and frequently there were libraries 
where the studious might rest and read after the refresh- 
ing luxury of the baths. The bathrooms proper were 
duplicated in each establishment, one part being open for 
the use of the men, the other set apart for the women. 
There is a hint, however, that, during the reign of some 
of the worst of the emperors, this propriety was not 
always strictly adhered to. Unless the Latin writers 
wilfully calumniate their own times, it was not a thing 
unknown for both men and women, in the private baths 
of palatial residences, to be waited on by slaves of the 
opposite sex. 

Whether or not Poppzea condescended to make use of 
the public baths, it is impossible to ascertain. It is cer- 
tain, however, that the emperors frequently joined the 
multitude in their sports and lavations. At two o’clock 
each day, the opening of the baths was announced by the 
ringing of a bell. Everybody repaired thither; it was 
the common rendezvous for gossip, recreation, and amuse- 
ment. Authors frequently read at the baths their new 
productions to those of the crowds who cared to listen. 
Much of the afternoon was spent in this manner. Before 
taking the bath, exercise was indulged in, a favorite form 
of which was ball playing. Then one entered the calda- 
rium, in which hot air was diffused by means of pipes 
leading from a furnace in the basement; then came the 
tepidartum, always followed by a plunge in cold water. 
While bathing, the skin was rubbed or scraped with a silver 
instrument called a strigula. The Romans concluded the 


THE WOMEN OF DECADENT ROME 283 


toilet by rubbing the body with odoriferous ointments, and, 
thus refreshed and anointed, proceeded to the banquet. 

In the early days of the Republic, meals were prepared 
with care, but there was no sumptuousness, no art. The 
first signs of Asiatic luxury made themselves noted on 
the table; delicacy and profusion were carried to excess, 
resulting in extravagance and gluttony. The cook, who 
had anciently been the lowest of the slaves, came to be 
the most important officer in the establishments of the 
rich; that which at first was only a low and necessary 
employment came to be a difficult and a highly esteemed 
art. The price of a cook, says Pliny, was rated at as 
much as would have formerly sufficed for the expense of 
a triumph, and a fish was bought at the price anciently 
paid for a cook. 

To make provision for banquets seems to have been 
more the province of the master of a Roman house than 
it was that of the mistress. There is a great contrast 
between the position of a Roman matron and that of a 
modern lady in this respect; the responsibility for the 
entertainment of guests did not so peculiarly rest upon 
the former as it does upon the latter. We frequently 
read of banquets given by men in the account of which 
no mention whatever is made of the wife, and these were 
ordinary occasions when there can be no doubt as to her 
presence. The guests were usually invited solely in the 
master’s name. In Petronius’s account of Trimalchio’s 
Feast, he represents one guest asking another who is the 
woman that so often scuttles up and down the room. 
He is told that she is Fortunata, Trimalchio’s wife, that 
she counts her money by the bushel, but that she has an 
eye everywhere, and when you least think to meet her 
she is at your elbow. Her propensity for petty manage- 
ment seems to have been stronger than her love for the 


284 WOMAN 


entertainment; for another visitor coming in later asks 
‘‘why Fortunata sits not among us?’’ The host replies: 
‘¢ Till she has gotten her plate together and has distributed 
what we leave among the servants, not a sup of anything 
goes down her throat.’’ But that this was unusual is 
shown by the inquirer threatening to leave unless the 
mistress sat down with them. 

We have elsewhere described the Roman dining hall, 
or triclinium. Doubtless the Golden House had many of 
these splendid salons. Lucullus, who was famous for the 
enormous expense at which he lived, called each of his 
numerous dining halls by the name of some divinity, and 
every hall had a set rate of expense at which an enter- 
tainment in it was given; so that when he ordered his 
household steward to prepare a banquet ina certain salon, 
the servant knew exactly what to provide and at how 
great a cost his master wished to entertain. It is told that 
Cicero and Pompey once met Lucullus in the Forum and 
invited themselves to supper with him. They declared 
that they wished to share the meal of which he himself 
would partake if he were without company, and they would 
not allow him to give any directions to the servants, only 
permitting him to order his steward to prepare the table 
in the Triclinium Apollo. The man knew exactly what to 
do, and the supper was a great surprise to the guests, for 
a banquet in that hall was never served at an expense of 
less than fifty thousand drachmas [nearly nine thousand 
dollars ]. 

In order that we may obtain as complete a picture as 
possible of the Roman woman’s life, we must attend in 
imagination one of those banquets which she attended 
in reality. 

On entering the dining hall, we notice that around the 
table,—or tables, for there will be many if the company is 


THE WOMEN OF DECADENT ROME 285 


a large one,—in place of chairs, are couches with an abun- 
dance of soft pillows. These couches are placed on three 
sides of the table; for it was the custom of the Romans to 
recline at their meals. When this custom was first intro- 
duced from Asia, the women did not think that it comported 
with their modesty to adopt this new style, and until the 
end of the Republic they retained the old habit of sitting 
at table, while the men lay on the couches; but at the time 
of Poppzea women had entirely relinquished this relic of 
their former scrupulousness of demeanor and were accus- 
tomed to follow the habit for which the lassitude resulting 
from the bath prepared them and which these prolonged 
feasts made necessary for comfort. 

Having taken our places at the table, our attention is 
first drawn to the fact that all the slaves, as they move 
about the room on their various errands, are singing in a 
low voice. This is the custom of the house; at the ban- 
quet everything must be"done to the sound of music. All 
the guests receive a crown or a wreath of flowers, which 
is worn upon the head during the feast. Roses are to be 
seen everywhere in great profusion. We are first served 
with some dishes which are designed to excite rather than 
appease the appetite; these consist of dormice covered 
with honey and pepper, hot sausages, and a large pannier 
filled with both white and black olives. On the dishes in 
which these viands are served we notice not only the 
host’s name, but also the number of ounces of silver of 
which the utensils are composed. An ostentatious display 
of excellence was always sought after by the Romans. 

A banquet must always begin with eggs; so, having 
- picked a little of the afore-mentioned dainties to sharpen 
our hunger, the repast really commences. A table is 
brought in, on which we see a large hen, carved in wood, 
sitting as on a nest. The slaves search in the straw 


286 WOMAN 


and bring forth the eggs, which are handed around. The 
host, after examining these simple articles of diet, says 
that he commanded to have them placed under a hen for 
a short time, but he is afraid that they are half hatched. 
Just as we are inclined to put ours aside, we discover that 
what appears to be the shell is nothing but paste, and, 
breaking it open, find inside a delicately cooked little bird 
of the wheatear species. We must be prepared for such 
culinary surprises. Then the music strikes up, and the 
slaves clear the table, dancing instead of walking. If 
a slave drops a valuable dish, she will not be scolded so 
much for the loss as she will be if she stops to pick up the 
fragments, as though the loss were of consequence. Wine 
is now brought in. It is contained in sealed glass vessels, 
each with a label setting forth the age of the vintage. 
Wine is plentiful; it is even passed to us in place of water 
in which to wash our hands. 

Now the viands are brought on in bewildering variety; 
and the marvellous conceits of the cook baffle descrip- 
tion. Here is an immense silver charger, around which 
are carved the signs of the zodiac; and upon each sign 
there is something suited to it, either in reality or its 
image in pastry: a lobster, a goose, two pilchards, etc. 
There is a splendid fish, and upon the sides of the dish 
are four little images which spout a delicious sauce. 

There must also be somewhat to amuse us; for this ban- 
quet is to be of long continuance, and there is a limit to one’s 
eating. A lengthy interval occurs, during which a company 
of actors, women as well as men, take their places in the 
lower part of the hall, which is left clear for the purpose, and 
there enact a farce which ridicules the follies of the times 
and causes us much laughter. Other women perform upon 
the harp; some exhibit their marvellous acrobatic skill; 
and one girl, clothed only in a diaphanous, silky robe which 


THB WOMEN OF DECADENT ROME 287 


reveals more of her person than it hides, performs a dance 
which is as remarkable for its grace as for its immodesty. 
We may be glad that we are not treated to a gladiatorial 
combat, as has sometimes been the case in this same house. 

After these entertainments have been concluded, an 
enormous dish is set before us, and in it a great boar. 
On his tusks hang two baskets, one filled with dates, the 
other with almonds. About him are little pigs made of 
sweetmeats. They are presents which we are to carry 
away with us; for it is always the custom for the men at 
a banquet to carry some part of it home to those women 
of their families who have not been present. To our great 
astonishment, when the servant makes a hole in the side 
of this boar, as though to carve it, there fly out a num- 
ber of blackbirds, which continue to flutter about the room 
until they are again captured. 

While we are beguiling our time with wine and con- 
versing with the ladies present, a large and entire hog is 
brought upon the table. Whereupon our host, having 
examined the animal closely, expresses it as his belief that 
it has not been disembowelled by the cook. That officer 
being sent for, he confesses that in his haste that part of 
the preparation had truly been forgotten. He is ordered 
to be flogged, and the executioners prepare to carry out 
the command upon the spot in the presence of us all; but 
mercy is implored for him by the women, and his master 
contents himself by ordering him to finish his work there 
upon the table. At this, the cook takes a knife and cuts 
open the hog’s belly, and there immediately tumble out 
a heap of delicious sausages of various kinds and sizes. 
This done, all the slaves cheer their master, and a present 
of silver is made to the cook. 

While we are discussing this and the various other 
interesting episodes of the feast, we are startled by the 


288 WOMAN 


ceiling giving a great crack, and, as we gaze up in con- 
siderable alarm, the main beam opens in the middle. A 
large aperture appears, from which descends a great disk 
and upon it are hung many beautiful presents for the 
guests, also fruits of various kinds which when touched 
throw out a delicious liquid perfume. 

Thus, eating and conversing and viewing these wonders 
and the various performances of the entertainers, the feast 
begun in the early evening has endured until the night has 
grown late. Wine has been flowing without stint, and its 
effect is to be seen among the company. The ladies 
present have indulged with almost as great freedom as the 
men. Tongues have become loosened and stories are told. 
and allusions made which might bring the blush to some 
cheeks, were they not already flushed with wine. The 
feast is likely to end in a revel. Men take the wreaths of 
flowers from the heads of the women and dip them in the 
wine, which they then drink as a mark of gallantry. There 
is no longer need for the actors and female entertainers; 
the male guests play the buffoon, and matrons, throwing 
aside their robes, dance, though possibly with less grace, 
certainly with no more modesty than did the professional 
women who had been hired for that purpose. Pranks are 
played upon those who have fallen into an intoxicated 
stupor. Some are roaring bacchic songs, some are loudly 
arguing concerning politics, giving vent to opinions for 
which they may have to give an account to the emperor 
on another day; some are brawling, while others are con- 
versing with the women in such unrestrained fashion as 
leaves no room for wonder at the numerous matrimonial 
readjustments which are characteristic of these times. 

These are some of the features of such banquets as 
those to which the women of Poppza’s time were accus- 
tomed. We have drawn our description principally from 


THE WOMEN OF DECADENT ROME 289 


Petronius’s inimitable account. Though in Trimalchio’s 
Feast there was, so far as it appears, no other woman 
besides his wife, yet we know from other sources that the 
presence of women at such entertainments was common. 
There is no evidence to the effect that they were in the 
habit of leaving the ¢riclintum before the unrestrained in- 
dulgence in wine had made their presence there entirely 
inconsistent with any ideas of strict propriety; indeed, if 
the poets are to be credited, it often happened that love 
making of an ardent nature was carried on in the confusion 
which marked the termination of these feasts. 

Poppzea had married an imperial actor. Even at so 
late a period as the days of Julius Cesar, a citizen lost his 
civic rights by appearing on the stage; but now the whole 
Roman Empire bent in fulsome adulation before a crazy 
ruler who strained a wretched voice to sing Canace in 
Labor. The Forum had become silent; the temples were 
frequented, but with little faith or sincerity on the part of 
the worshippers. The public life of Rome centred in the 
theatre and the circus. ‘‘After the market place has been 
designed,’ says Vitruvius, ‘‘a very healthy spot must be 
chosen for the theatre, where the people can witness the 
dramas on the feast days of the immortal gods.’’ In 
the days of Nero, the Roman people did not wait for a 
religious motive in order that they might indulge in shows 
which were certainly morally unhealthy, however salu- 
brious may have been the site of the theatre. The most 
popular and best remunerated public servants were actors 
and actresses, dancing women and female musicians. 
Mommsen, commenting on the condition of theatrical art 
at an earlier time than that of Nero, says: ‘‘ There was 
hardly any more lucrative trade in Rome than that of the 
actor and the dancing girl of the first rank. The princely 
estate of the tragic actor Esopus amounted to two hundred 


200 WOMAN 


thousand pounds sterling; his still more celebrated con- 
temporary Roscius estimated his annual income at six 
thousand pounds, and Dionysia the dancer estimated hers 
at two thousand pounds.’’ Later he adds, as indicating 
what was popular at the time: ‘‘It was nothing unusual 
for the Roman dancing girls to throw off at the finale the 
upper robe and to give a dance in undress for the benefit 
of the public.’’ , 

There is in existence an epitaph of a girl named Licinia 
Eucharis, who is reputed to have been the first female to 
appear on the public Greek stage in Rome. She died at 
the age of fourteen; but, notwithstanding her tender years, 
she was ‘‘well instructed and taught in all arts by the 
Muses themselves.’’ 

The theatrical displays of the Romans had always been 
characterized by vulgarity and coarseness. The ancient 
Atellan farces were as full of obscenity as were the fes- 
cennine songs of broad allusions. This being so, even in 
the days when the Roman people deified chastity, it natu- 
rally follows that unbounded license must have prevailed 
in the degenerate days of the Empire. The surfeited taste 
of the licentious populace was gratified by hordes of women 
as well as men, who strove to give new piquancy to their 
exhibitions by the shamelessness of their performances. 

There is some evidence, however, to show that now 
and again there was an actress who endeavored to ‘‘ ele- 
vate the stage.’’ Horace reports that when Arbuscula 
was hissed by the people, though doubtless she was giving 
a good performance, she had the courage to retort: ‘‘It is 
enough for me that the knight Mzecenas applauds’’; but 
such a spirit was unusual, and the Roman theatre continued 
to deteriorate. As is always the case in such matters, the 
demand created the supply; but the supply also renewed 
and strengthened the taste from which sprung the demand. 


THE WOMEN OF DECADENT ROME 291 


Watching some gladiators who had been condemned to 
mortal combat, a Roman argued with Seneca that they 
were criminals and deserved their fate. ‘‘ Yes,’’ answered 
the philosopher; ‘‘ but what have you done that you should 
be condemned to witness such an exhibition ?’’ 

The moralist’s stricture on their amusements was not 
concurred in by the great mass of his female compatriots. 
Patrician and plebeian, rich and poor, the women of 
Rome craved the realistic scenes of the theatre and the 
terrible excitements of the circus with as much avidity as 
did the men. Augustus had ordered that women should 
not be present at the exhibitions of wrestlers, and that 
they should only be allowed to witness gladiatorial com- 
bats from the upper and remote part of the theatre; but 
in the days of Nero, the sex was placed under no such 
restrictions. Augustus also severely punished an actor 
who allowed a married woman, dressed as a boy, to wait 
upon him at table; but afterward it became common for 
patrician ladies to be the paramours of gladiators and pan- 
tomimists, with no fear of punishment save the immortal 
lashings of the poetic satirists. These lashings, it is evi- 
dent, had no deterrent effect; despite the sarcasms of 
Juvenal, the Elias and Hispullas continued to be enamored 
of tragic actors. Hippia, though the wife of a Senator, 
accompanies a gladiator to Alexandria. She dines among 
the seamen, walks the deck in a rolling sea, and delights 
to take a hand at the ropes. What was the attribute that 
captivated her? Sergius was not handsome; ‘‘ but then, he 
was a swordsman. The sword made its wielder as beauti- 
ful as Hyacinthus. It was this she preferred to her chil- 
dren, her native land, and her husband. It is the steel of 
which women are enamored. This same Sergius, if he 
were discharged from the arena, would be no better than 
her husband in her eyes.’’ ; 


292 WOMAN 


In the times of the most dissolute emperors, the people 
of Rome lived chiefly to attend the theatre and the circus; 
after bread, all they asked for was shows. There were 
theatres in Rome capable of seating eighty thousand per- 
sons. We may imagine such a concourse waiting while 
Nero dines in their presence in the imperial box, and 
allays their impatience by shouting: ‘‘One more sup, 
and then I will present you with something that will 
make your ears tingle.’’ But it is likely that the Roman 
ladies of noble birth were wont to hear the announcement 
of Nero’s performances with little anticipatory pleasure. 
They dared not absent themselves, for there were spies 
who would report to the emperor their failure to attend; 
and, being present, they were compelled to submit to the 
infliction of the whole of the wretched exhibition; for on 
such occasions the doors were absolutely closed against all 
egress. So thoroughly was this rule carried out that there 
are reports of infants having been born in the theatre 
while Nero was displaying his skill as an actor. More 
than that, it was never known when or under what cir- 
cumstances the lightning of his malicious displeasure would 
fall upon some unlucky head. Once, when he was playing 
and singing in the theatre, he observed a married lady 
dressed in the shade of purple which he had prohibited. 
He pointed her out to his officers, and she was not only 
stripped of her raiment, but her property was also prac- 
tically confiscated by means of fines. 

Yet doubtless the fact that they were afforded the 
strange privilege of witnessing the acting of an emperor 
did serve to arouse the interest of the blasé Roman popu- 
lace. Legitimate histrionic art had become for them tire- 
some, as it always does where luxury and pampered 
idleness tend to blunt the artistic conscience. Nothing 
less than libidinous vaudeville, in which matrons of noble 


THE WOMEN OF DECADENT ROME 293 


birth were by bribes or threats induced to take part, could 
create the least sensation. Realistic performances were 
more popular still. The actors in these were found in the 
dungeons, therefore they were not costly and required 
little training. A much truer idea of agony is obtained by 
watching a man really suffer than by seeing it mimicked 
by an actor; and if the piece to be staged includes a death, 
why not provide the audience with the opportunity of 
seeing a criminal die in the manner designated? These 
were the scenes to which the women of Rome grew accus- 
tomed, with the result that, for the evil-disposed, bloodshed 
was no more than a pastime, while for the better-natured 
it at least enabled them to look upon their own death 
with diminished terror. But the favorite exhibition with 
the Roman populace was the sanguinary gladiatorial en- 
counter. Ten thousand men were constantly kept and 
trained, that the people might witness their combats to the 
death with each other or with ferocious animals. These 
combats were to be seen in greater perfection at a later day 
than that of Poppzea, in the Colosseum—the most stupen- 
dous show place ever erected by man, and in which was 
exemplified the most enormous wickedness that has dis- 
graced the name of humanity. In the central space was 
‘the sand,’’ the arena, often red and soaked like a battle- 
field with human blood. Around this was a gilded fence to 
prevent the animals or the more desperate men from rush- 
ing with deadly hate upon the unfeeling audience. Behind 
that stood the marble podium, on which were placed the 
imperial seats and those of the nobility. Then came, tier 
above tier, the seats of the commoner people, who oft- 
times made the vast edifice resound with their roar—more 
dreadful than that of the forest king: ‘‘ To the lions!’”’ In 
the front seats and behind them sat women, beautiful of 
face but hardened in disposition, who, when a man was 


204 WOMAN 


mortally wounded, cried: ‘‘hoc habet [he has it!]’’ with 
an excitement as unsympathetic as that which delighted 
their male companions; and who, when an unfortunate 
combatant lowered his arms in token of defeat, were as 
likely to point their thumbs downward, in sign that the 
unfortunate man was forthwith to be despatched, as to 
raise them in token of mercy. 
' So long as Petronius, the man of taste, was the ‘‘arbiter’’ 
of Nero’s amusements, the people of Rome were not called 
upon to witness the most outrageous examples of imperial 
depravity. Yet it must be confessed that, if the women 
described in the Satyricon are to be accepted as being 
typical of the majority of the Roman ladies, their morals 
could not suffer much by the influence even of a Nero. 
Tigellinus incited the emperor to greater lengths of profli- 
gacy than he otherwise would have reached. Tacitus 
describes the feast given by Tigellinus, for which ‘‘he 
built, in the lake of Agrippa, a raft which supported the 
banquet, which was moved to and fro by other vessels 
drawing it after them. He had procured fowl and venison 
from remote regions, and fish from far-off seas. Upon the 
margin of the lake were erected brothels, filled with ladies 
of distinction, and over against them other women whose 
profession was apparent by the scantiness of their attire. 
As soon as darkness came on, the surrounding dwellings 
echoed with the music, and in the groves brilliant lights 
revealed everything that was obscene and improper.”’ 
During the reign of the dissolute emperors, the virtue of 
women was but little respected. Nero denied that any 
person was sincerely chaste. If a woman of any social 
prominence in those days desired to retain her honor, her 
beauty was her greatest misfortune. No ties or obliga- 
tions, not even the sanctity of the Vestals, were respected 
by the lustful tyrants. If a man rejoiced in a beautiful 


THE WOMEN OF DECADENT ROME 2905 


and modest wife, she might any day be requested to ap- 
pear at the palace; and the husband, if he would preserve 
his life, was compelled to bear the dishonor in silence. 
Occasionally, however, there was a woman who showed 
more spirit; Mallonia publicly upbraided Tiberius for his 
wickedness, and then went home and killed herself. But 
the condition of morals was such that there were a great 
many wives and husbands who did not regard such tyranny 
with any special degree of horror. Piso, who was put to 
death for his conspiracy against Nero, had robbed his friend 
Domitius Silius of his wife, who was, the historian informs 
us, a depraved woman and void of every recommendation 
but personal beauty; but ‘‘both concurred, her husband 
by his passiveness, she by her wantonness, to blazon the 
infamy of Piso.’’ 

Among these characters there was but little of that 
chaste love which glorifies the marriage bond. Poppzea 
could have had no regard for the despicable Nero; her sole 
concern was that she might be empress, and maintain 
herself in that exalted position. The emperor prized 
nothing in his wife except her incomparable beauty; and 
he placed her beside himself on the throne only because 
it was necessary that Czsar should have legitimate heirs. 

As to the character of Poppzea, Josephus credits her 
with being very religious, and Tacitus says that she was 
much given to consulting with soothsayers and eastern 
charlatans. Yet it may have been that, notwithstanding 
her wild profligacy and shameless ambition, Poppza felt 
the vacuity of the glittering show by which she was sur- 
rounded, and that at times a restless conscience compelled 
her to grope among the tangled mysteries of the spiritual 
life. At the same time, it has been suspected—and the 
suspicion is not totally without warrant—that the Roman 
Jews, in their bitter animosity against the Christians, were 


206 WOMAN 


aided by the empress in instigating that persecution which 
rendered the reign of Nero so superlatively infamous. 

It was rare for an imperial consort to come to other 
than a violent end; and Poppzea was no exception to the 
rule. Her death was the act, though unpremeditated, of 
her husband. One day, she found fault with him for 
returning later than she desired from a chariot drive. 
Angered by her upbraidings and brutal by nature, he 
kicked her, and, being in a condition of pregnancy at the 
time, she shortly afterward died of the blow. It is said 
that her body was not consumed by fire, as was the custom 
of the Romans, but embalmed in Jewish fashion and placed 
in the tomb of the Julian family. She was, however, given 
a splendid funeral; and there is no stronger witness to the 
terrible moral apathy which characterized the times than 
the fact that her murderous husband delivered on the occa- 
sion a laudatory oration. From the rostrum, he magnified 
‘her beauty and her lot, in having been the mother of an 
infant enrolled among the gods.’’ There being nothing 
else in her character to extol, he treated her gifts of for- 
tune as having been so many virtues. It is impossible to 
doubt that the ancient historian is correct when he asserts 
that though the people were obliged to put on an appear- 
ance of mourning, they could but rejoice at the death of 
this woman, when they remembered her lewdness and her 
cruelty; and although, as Pliny tells us, all Arabia did not 
produce in a whole year as many spices as were consumed 
at the funeral of Poppzea, there was no incense, material 
or eulogistic, by which it was possible to overcome the evil 
odor of her life. 

The reign of Nero was typical of other ages that were 
to follow. The Roman people were to drink still deeper of 
the dregs of servility, and they were to become yet more 
morally apathetic, before they would awaken to better 


THE WOMEN OF DECADENT ROME 2907 


things. Poppzea was simply a woman of her time, and she 
was followed by generations of women, both of high and 
low degree, who were like-minded with herself. Imperial 
prostitutes and plebeian courtesans run riot through all 
the long drawn out decadence of the Roman Empire; but, 
although a veritable picture of the Roman woman could 
not be given without the inclusion of such types as those 
delineated in this and the preceding chapter, we will at 
least spare ourselves and the reader further recital of vice 
and crime by confining the exemplification to this one 
period. We have not refrained from including the worst 
features and employing the darkest colors that history war- 
rants, in order that, to use the expression of Tacitus, we 
may not have to repeat instances of similar extravagance. 

Although Nero was a monster of iniquity, he was not 
denied the. disinterested love of women. That strange, 
strong passion which holds woman’s heart to the most 
unworthy objects and feeds itself with idealizations made 
the name of Nero dear to some when it was execrated by 
all the world besides. And when at last he was driven 
from the throne, and, uttering the words: ‘‘I yet live, to 
my shame and disgrace,’’ drove the suicidal dagger through 
his throat, there were women who tenderly cared for that 
body which sycophantic courtiers extolled while it lived 
and neglected when it was dead and powerless. His nurses 
Ecloge and Alexandra, who had cared for him when he 
was an innocent boy, and that Acte who had been his first 
love and who had never entirely lost her influence over 
him, laid his ashes in the tomb of his fathers, and grieved 
over a death which gave to the world at large great cause 
for rejoicing. 


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Chapter XE 
Gyood GAomen of Nero’s Reign 


XI 


GOOD WOMEN OF NERO’S REIGN 


THE immoralities which characterized the reigns of some 
of the first emperors must be considered as abnormal out- 
breaks rather than as permanent conditions. The element 
of corruption is always present in the social body. Asa 
rule, it reveals itself only to those who look for it in the 
slums and prisons.and criminal haunts, but at times and 
under certain conditions it breaks out with excessive viru- 
lence, and, to adopt a Biblical figure, there seems to be 
no soundness in the whole body. Such conditions were 
present during the period we have been studying. Many 
circumstances combined to bring all the corruption and im- 
morality which are usually veiled or disguised into promi- 
nent view and to make them fashionable. The accidents 
of birth placed upon the imperial throne men who were 
morally insane; consequently, the evil-disposed found 
themselves in a paradise of crime, while the ambitious, 
the covetous, and the cowardly were enabled to gain their 
ends and preserve their safety only by becoming caterers 
to and companions in their masters’ lusts. 

It is very easy, however, for a student of history to 
encourage an exaggerated idea of Roman depravity, even 
as it was in the days of Messalina and Poppz#a. Whence 
do we obtain our picture of the Rome of those times? 

301 


302 WOMAN 


Partly from historians; but very largely from such writers 
as Juvenal, Petronius, and Apuleius. The historians con- 
fined their accounts to the prominent people of their times, 
and it not unfrequently happened that the most prominent 
and successful were the least commendable from the moral 
standpoint. The moralists necessarily placed the worst in 
the boldest relief, in order to ensure a more telling effect. 
Seneca held such writers up to ridicule, when he said: 
‘* Morals are gone; evil triumphs; all virtue, all justice, is 
disappearing; the world is degenerating. This is what 
was said in our fathers’ days, it is what men say to-day, 
and it will be the cry of our children.’’ And yet, the 
world does not grow worse. As for the society portrayed 
by Petronius and Apuleius, these men sought their char- 
acters among the low pothouses and the brothels of Rome. 
The morals of the ordinary Roman home must not be 
judged by a scene either in a house of ill fame or in the 
palace of a crazy and dissolute tyrant, any more than 
the common life of Herculaneum or Pompeii is to be con- 
jectured solely from the obscene pictures found on the 
walls of their ruined dwellings. 

In this present chapter, the women we shall cite are 
chiefly those who were ennobled in their deaths rather 
than in their lives. That is to say, though they lived 
well, had it not been for their brave manner of dying their 
names would not have been preserved in history. 

As has been said, Roman society was not wholly cor- 
rupt, even though an adulterous Messalina, an unprincipled 
Poppzea, or a cruel and ambitious Agrippina, shared the 
throne. Contemporary with these were women who still 
with pure hands and sincere hearts invoked the ancient 
goddess of chastity. There were those who had mother 
love for their children, but were free from deadly ambi- 
tion. Among the more ordinary homes were many that 


GOOD WOMEN OF NERO’S REIGN 303 


were graced with the same family loyalty and tender 
affection as beautify our homes to-day. 

The young women of the days of Claudius were not 
obliged to search in the musty annals of past times for 
examples of feminine honor and virtue. They had all 
known Antonia, the virtuous daughter of Octavia and 
Antony, who, like Agrippina, had honored her widowhood 
by a long and irreproachable chastity. Yet the maidens 
of Messalina’s age may have been the less attracted by 
the example of Antonia because, while she retained the 
old Roman purity of morals, she also exemplified the old 
Roman severity of manners. Claudius, her son, never 
ceased to stand in awe of her, and during his childhood 
her severity to him was such that it is supposed that 
it helped to induce his imbecility. When her daughter 
Livilla had been betrayed into crime by means of the arts 
of Sejanus, Antonia was even more inexorable than Tibe- 
rius, against whom the plot had been laid, and she caused 
the young woman to be starved to death. It was not an 
instance of cruelty, it was simply the old Roman justice, 
in which personal or even maternal feeling was allowed 
no place. Antonia’s goodness was not of the attractive 
kind. We must imagine her as a proud, puritanical old 
matron, who made herself a terror to wrong doers. She 
courageously rebuked her grandson Caligula for his enor- 
mities; but the young ruffian, who possessed neither the 
mind nor the conscience to respect age or kinship, in return 
caused Antonia to be put to death—though it is possible 
that the actual deed may have been her own. 

It was asked of old: ‘‘Can a clean thing come out of 
an unclean?’’ The affirmative answer to this question is 
found in the person and character of Octavia, the daughter 
of Messalina the infamous. Indeed, the axiom that ‘‘ like 
produces like’’ cannot be applied to moral character; so 


304 WOMAN 


many instances are met with of bad offspring from noble 
parentage and virtuous children from immoral antecedents 
that they cannot be regarded as exceptions to the rule. 

Octavia was fortunate in nothing but her character. 
She was the plaything of a relentlessly adverse fate. The 
whole of her short life is an illustration of the fact that 
goodness of disposition does not protect its possessor from 
the worst evils of existence. That this young girl remained 
virtuous amid the whirl of immorality in which she was 
reared, with no lovable example and no motherly advice, 
is a proof of the invincibility of a good disposition if nature 
has woven it into a human character. 

As a little child, Octavia had been petted and fondled by 
her father, the poor old Emperor Claudius, who, dull and 
phlegmatic as he was, would have been a good-hearted 
man if he had not been thrust into a position for which he 
was totally unfitted. He loved to take Octavia and her 
little brother Britannicus to the theatre and hold them 
with a father’s pride before the admiring eyes of the 
people. This was all the love that Octavia ever knew. 
One of her earliest and saddest experiences was to be sent 
by Messalina out upon the road to Ostia, to meet Claudius 
and plead vainly for that unworthy mother’s life. Then 
Agrippina came to the palace; and with her in the double 
capacity of empress and stepmother, Octavia found no 
cause of thankfulness for the change. Hitherto she at 
least had not been used as a mere tool to effect some 
other’s political ambitions. Her father Claudius had be- 
trothed her to Lucius Silanus, a celebrated and favorite 
Senator. Had this match been allowed to remain undis- 
turbed, it is possible that Octavia’s lot might have been 
peaceful and happy; but a false charge against Silanus 
was trumped up by the perfidious Vitellius, so that the 
former was degraded from the Senate, and immediately 


GOOD WOMEN OF NERO’S REIGN 305 


afterward he committed suicide. Octavia lived on and 
encountered the terrible misfortune of being betrothed to 
Nero, whom Seneca was advising to ‘‘ compensate himself 
with the pleasures of youth without compunction.’’ Agrip- 
pina threw Octavia to her son, just as a rope might be 
tossed to a mountain climber to enable him to ascend a 
difficult pass; when its use has been served, it is looked 
upon as a piece of mere cumbersome baggage. So Nero 
considered his wife, after he had obtained the Empire. 
When he expressed his dislike for her, the plain-spoken 
Burrhus said: ‘‘ Very well, send her away; but of course 
you will give up her dower with her;’’ which was nothing 
less than the throne of Claudius. 

Had Octavia been supported by some all-powerful and 
sympathetic relative like Augustus, she might have sur- 
vived and have shown as great patience with the vices 
of Nero as her ancestral namesake showed with those of 
Antony; but she was left unprotected amidst numerous 
opposing forces which, when not aimed with deadly hatred 
against her, were indifferent to her welfare, with the con- 
sequence that she was speedily and mercilessly crushed. 

The first woman who took the place which Octavia 
never held in Nero’s affections was the Greek freedwoman 
Acte. The wild young emperor would have divorced his 
wife and married the Greek forthwith, but he was still 
under the domination of the powerful Agrippina. This 
first thwarting of the imperial will was the beginning of 
Agrippina’s downfall. It was not long before she and the 
young wife saw a fearful presage of their own fate when 
the young Britannicus fell dead upon the banquet floor, 
poisoned by the diabolical art of Nero’s instrument, Locusta. 
Octavia, though so young, was not entirely ignorant as 
to what the perils of her situation demanded. She had 
received early lessons in a terrible school. Consequently, 


300 WOMAN 


when Nero declared to the alarmed guests that her brother 
was habitually afflicted with the falling sickness, she dis- 
guised her sisterly grief and composedly retained her place 
at the banquet. 

But the time came when Agrippina had also fallen a 
victim to her son’s inhumanity, and Nero, responsible to 
no human being, had become enamored by the more at- 
tractive fascinations of a more unprincipled woman than 
Acte. ‘‘Why does not Nero,’’ the tyrant asks of himself, 
‘*banishing all fear, set about expediting his marriage with 
Poppza? Why not put away his wife Octavia, although 
her conduct is that of a modest woman, since the name 
of her father and the affection of the people have made 
her an eyesore to him?’’ With Poppza urging him on 
and the villainous Tigellinus exercising his diabolical in- 
genuity to find a plausible excuse, it was not long before 
the courage of Nero was equal to the audacious act of 
driving from the imperial palace the woman through con- 
nection with whom he had his right of tenure there. Oc- 
tavia was divorced by process of law, under the allegation 
that she was barren. At first she was awarded the house 
of Burrhus and the estate of Plautus, whom Nero had 
recently put to death. The divorce being sought by her 
husband for no fault of hers, he was obliged, if the strict 
letter of the law had been observed, to give up with her 
the whole of her dowry; but for men like Nero, who exe- 
cute the laws, a mere pretence of legality suffices. Pop- 
pza had brazenly endeavored to trump up a far more 
serious charge against the woman she injured; but it could 
not be made to hold. She bribed one of Octavia’s domes- 
tics to assert that her mistress had participated in an amour 
with Eucerus, an Alexandrian flute player; but this accu- 
sation was so preposterously inconsistent with Octavia’s 
well-known character that, even though they tortured her 


w— 


GOOD WOMEN OF NERO’S REIGN 307 


servants, they could gain no evidence which they dared 
to set before the people in substantiation of the charge. 
There could be no stronger testimony to the amiability 
and lovableness of Octavia, as well as to the purity of her 
character, than the fidelity with which her servants de- 
fended her reputation from all aspersions, even while they 
were undergoing the most intense torture. One brave 
maid, while being examined upon the rack, spat in the 
face of Tigellinus, who was urging a confession, and de- 
clared aloud that ‘‘the womb of Octavia was purer than 
his mouth.’’ It was among slaves like these that the first 
Christian martyrs were found; women who gave their 
bodies to the most excruciating torture, but could not be 
induced to deny their faith. ' 

Soon after Octavia’s divorce, she was banished into 
Campania, where she was kept in close confinement, and 
a guard of soldiers was placed over her, But though the 
Senate and the nobility had become absolutely enslaved to 
the imperial tyrant’s will, there was always the people 
to reckon with. The common women talked loudly but 
sympathetically of Octavia’s persecuted innocence. The 
men took up the cry; they made it heard in the theatre and 
they scribbled it upon the walls. The people could not be 
individualized. They had not but one neck, as Caligula 
had so maliciously wished. Their number and individual 
insignificance rendered it possible for them to express their 
mind with impunity. Nero hastened to recall Octavia to 
the city. 

That was a day of proud but dangerous joy for the un- 
fortunate young empress. At least she had the satisfaction 
of knowing that all the world believed in her innocence. 
In their happiness, the multitude went to the Capitol and 
thanked all the gods for her return. They threw down 
the statues of Poppzea, and wherever they could find one 


308 WOMAN 


of Octavia they wreathed it with flowers and removed it 
to the Forum or to some temple. They even went to the 
palace to applaud Nero for bringing back his banished wife, 
but were driven thence by the soldiery. 

All this served only to incite Poppzea to take the most 
desperate measures. She approached Nero with such art- 
ful insinuations in regard to the possibility of the people’s 
revolting in favor of Octavia, and at the same time with 
a pretence of such meek submissiveness in regard to her 
own personal fortunes, that the emperor was induced both 
by fear and passion to take the course which she desired. 

A method of getting rid of Octavia without incurring 
danger was not easy to devise; but Nero had at his court 
aman who was a genius in the art of removing formida- 
ble impediments. Anicetus had proved his ability upon 
Agrippina. He was not only resourceful, but absolutely 
without either honor or conscience. It was not alone 
necessary that Octavia should be destroyed, but her death 
must take on the semblance of a justified punishment. 
There was none who could or would testify aught against 
her. Nero summoned Anicetus and told him ‘‘that he 
alone had saved the life of his prince from the dark devices 
of his mother; now an opportunity for a service of no less 
magnitude presented itself, by relieving him from a wife 
who was his mortal enemy. There was no need of force 
or arms; he had only to admit of adultery with Octavia!’’ 
The dastardly freedman forthwith began to boast among 
his friends of the favors he received from the young em- 
press. On being summoned to a council of the friends of 
Nero, he made a pretended confession. He was condemned 
to banishment to Sardinia, where he lived in great luxury 
until he died a natural death. 

Nero published an edict in which he stated that Octavia 
had been discovered seeking, through the corruption of 


GOOD WOMEN OF NERO’S REIGN 309 


Anicetus, the admiral, to engage the fleet in a conspiracy, 
and that her infidelity was clearly proved. Octavia was 
sent to the island of Pandataria. Tacitus says: ‘‘ Never 
was there any exile who touched the hearts of the be- 
holders with deeper compassion. Some there were who 
still remembered to have seen Agrippina the Elder ban- 
ished by Tiberius; the more recent sufferings of Julia were 
likewise recalled to mind—that Julia who had been con- 
fined there by Claudius. But they had experienced some 
happiness, and the recollection of their former splendor 
proved some alleviation of their present horrors.’’ Every- 
thing in Octavia’s life that promised pleasure had been 
turned to gall. Her home recalled the scenes of her 
father’s poisoning and her brother’s murder; her marriage 
rights had been first usurped by a handmaid and then by 
a woman known to be of infamous character; and now 
even her memory was to be stained with the imputation 
of a crime which was more intolerable to her than death 
itself. There is no sadder picture in all history than that 
of this girl,—she was only twenty,—after her short life of 
uninterrupted sorrow and unstained innocence, thrown 
among centurions and common soldiers, who dared not 
help her even if a feeling of pity entered their hearts. 
They commanded her to die; but she had not the strength 
or the courage of Antonia. She pleaded that she was now 
a widow, and that the emperor’s object having been gained 
he had no cause to fear anything from her. She invoked 
the name of Agrippina, and said ‘‘ that had she lived, her 
marriage would have been made no less wretched, but she 
would not have been doomed to destruction.’? When 
those in charge saw that it was hopeless to expect that 
she would take the unpleasant task off their hands, they 
bound her and opened her veins; but, the blood flowing 
too slowly, her death was accelerated by the vapor of a 


310 WOMAN 


bath heated to the highest point. After life was extinct, 
they severed her head from her body and carried it to 
Poppza, in order that she might see that the deed by 
which she was made Empress of Rome was surely accom- 
plished. 

The abject Senate, when they learned that the whole 
matter was thus concluded, decreed that offerings should 
be made at the temples, as a thanksgiving for the deliver- 
ance of the emperor from the dangers which had threat- 
ened him through the conspiracy of his wife. Tacitus 
declares that he records this circumstance ‘‘ in order that 
all those who shall read the calamities of those times, as 
they are delivered by me or any other authors, may con- 
clude, by anticipation, that as often as a banishment or a 
murder was perpetrated by the prince’s orders, so often 
thanks were offered to the gods; and those acts which in 
former times were resorted to in order that prosperous 
occurrences might be distinguished, were now made the 
tokens of public disasters.’’ 

These were the days of the martyrs. During this reign, 
the burning bodies of Christians lighted the gardens of the 
malevolent tyrant, innocent women and tender girls were 
exposed to fierce beasts in the arena, and by their suffer- 
ings were made to contribute interest to a Roman holiday. 
These died for their faith. They died gladly, in the belief 
that their pains and faithfulness were to be rewarded with 
an unfading crown in a land beyond the skies. They 
cheered each other in the face of death, and they were 
comforted by those friends who were still at liberty with 
the promise of a meeting where no tyrant’s hand could 
' harm them. Octavia was not of this faith. It is probable 
that she knew nothing of the strange doctrines which were 
making converts among the Roman slaves. Yet there was 
no martyr more innocent than herself, none more worthy 


GOOD WOMEN OF NERO’S REIGN 311 


of canonization. There was none whose purity and whose 
fidelity to the principles which were cherished by high 
souls could present a better claim for the victor’s palm 
and the martyr’s crown than her own. Octavia knew 
nothing of the Christian hope of immortality; her religious 
faith at the best could teach her no more than the vague 
surmise that possibly in some dreary under world the 
shades of mortals retained a melancholy consciousness. 
Yet a consistent justice at the present day cannot do other 
than place side by side the persecuted girl from the im- 
perial palace and the Christian slave maiden whose blood 
dripped from the jaws of the beasts of the arena, and be- 
lieve that whatever consolation eternal fate provided for 
the one was equally shared in by the other. 

As we have said, the first woman to attract the affec- 
tions of Nero, which were never turned toward Octavia, 
was Acte. She had probably been brought as a slave 
from Asia. How old she was when Nero first knew her 
it is impossible for us to conjecture, but it is likely that 
she was somewhat older than the youthful emperor; it 
frequently happens that a boy’s first love is aroused by a 
woman his superior in age. Then, too, Acte was at this 
time a freedwoman. Liberty was often gained by female 
slaves by means of the charms of their persons; but this 
result was not likely to be secured before those charms 
were fully matured. So profound was Nero’s passion for 
Acte that, had he not been with difficulty restrained, he 
would \have divorced Octavia forthwith and married the 
Greek. He is said to have induced men of consular rank 
to swear that she was of royal descent. It is by no means 
impossible that such an assertion should be true; for the 
slave markets which supplied Rome were to a large ex- 
tent recruited by kidnapped children, picked up wherever 
they might be found. It is remarkable that not a word 


312 WOMAN 


that is detrimental to the character of Acte is recorded 
in history. Indeed, we know but very little about her, 
though she has always been regarded with a sort of 
poetical approbation. There is no evidence of her having 
used her power with the emperor for the injury of an 
enemy. She seems to have been modest and unassuming, 
and it is certain that her love for Nero was sincere; for 
it not only outlasted his, but remained true to the latest 
hour of his life. When all others had forsaken the fallen 
prince whom they had fawned upon, it was Acte who 
tenderly cared for his remains. 

Tacitus represents her as warning Nero from his early 
evil extravagances. She remained queen of his affections 
for four years,—the best four years of his reign,—and it is 
said that when he turned from her to Poppza she sank 
into a profound melancholy. Upon all this has been 
founded the surmise that Acte was a Christian; but it is 
nothing more than conjecture. Whatever may have been 
the facts in regard to this, in the little glimpses we obtain 
of her presence in the awful tragedies of her age we catch 
the outline of one whom we are assured must have been 
a good woman—a woman innately pure, but forced into 
contact with vice by circumstances over which she had 
no control. 

There are numerous examples from history to prove 
that in the dissolute reign of Nero feminine goodness was 
not a rarity; but there are no pictures of pure light- 
heartedness and gladsome simplicity such as were known 
in the older days. Everything was sombre; death was in 
the air; the only gayety was that found in the scenes of 
reckless profligacy. It was an age of extremes: on the 
one side, unrestrained profligacy; on the other, fear and 
sorrow occasioned by a tyrant’s cruel caprice. It was an 
age in which all the experiences of life were intensified. 


GOOD WOMEN OF NERO’S REIGN 313 


Human life of the period can only be pictured in high 
lights and deep shadows; everything must be shown in 
strong relief. The fortune of nearly all the good women of 
this time whose names we know was to suffer patiently 
and die heroically. 

Like Acte, the noble matron Pomponia Grecina has 
been credited by tradition with having found consolation 
for the sorrows of the times in that new faith which was 
undermining old Rome, both literally in the catacombs and 
figuratively in the rapidity with which it was making 
converts; but we know not with certainty. It would be 
unjust to paganism and untrue to history to claim every 
instance of moral superiority for the modern faith. Still, 
Grezcina was accused of yielding to foreign superstitions. 
This may have been owing to the peculiarities of her 
manner. She had been the close friend of that Julia, 
daughter of Drusus, whom Messalina had forced to kill 
herself. From this time on, for the space of forty years, 
Grezcina wore nothing but mourning, and was never seen 
to smile. Sienkiewicz founds the plot of his Neronian novel 
on the idea that Grecina was a Christian; but there are 
no facts by which this supposition can be verified. When 
the charge of entertaining foreign superstitions was laid 
against her, she was, in accordance with the ancient law, 
consigned to the adjudication of her husband. Plautius 
assembled her kindred, and, in compliance with the insti- 
tutions of early times, having in their presence made 
solemn inquisition into the character and conduct of his 
wife, adjudged her innocent. She survived to a great age 
and was always held in high estimation by the people, but 
she never recovered from her melancholy. 

When the noble Thrasea had been condemned to death 
by Nero, the officer who brought the tidings found him 
walking in the portico of his house. He had already 


314 WOMAN 


opened his veins, and as he stretched out his arms the 
blood began to flow. Calling the quzstor to him, and 
sprinkling the blood upon the floor, he said: ‘‘Let us 
make a libation to Jove the Deliverer. Behold, young 
man, and may the gods avert the omen, but you are fallen 
upon such times that it may be useful to fortify your mind 
by examples of unflinching firmness.’’ Arria, his wife, 
wished to share her husband’s fate, but he bade her live 
for their daughter’s sake. 

There were many women who presented examples of 
the same unflinching firmness for the encouragement 
of their own sex. The mother of Thrasea’s wife, whose 
name was also Arria, exhibited a strength of mind and a 
magnanimity of spirit equal to that of the noblest Romans 
in the best days of the Republic. Duruy recounts two 
episodes in the career of this noble woman which illustrate 
all we have claimed for her as one of the best of her sex. 

‘‘ Arria’s husband, Cacina Pztus, and his son were 
affected with a serious malady; the son died. His mother 
took such measures respecting the funeral that the father 
knew nothing of it. Every time she entered his room she 
gave him news of the sufferer,—he had not slept badly, 
or perhaps he was recovering his appetite; and when she 
could no longer restrain her tears she went out for a mo- 
ment, and then returned with dry eyes and a calm face, 
having left her grief behind her. At a later period, her 
husband, being concerned in the conspiracy of Scribonia- 
nus, was captured and taken to Rome. He was put on 
board a ship, and Arria begged the soldiers to allow her to 
go with him. ‘You cannot refuse,’ she said to them, 
‘to a man of consular rank a few slaves to wait on him 
and dress him; I alone will do him these services.’ As 
they continued inexorable, she hired a fishing boat and fol- 
lowed across the Adriatic the vessel in which her husband 


GOOD WOMEN OF NERO’S REIGN 315 


was conveyed. At Rome, she met the wife of Scribo- 
nianus, who attempted to speak to her. ‘How can I listen 
to you,’ she said to her, ‘who have seen your husband 
killed in your arms, and who are still alive?’ Foreseeing 
the condemnation of Pztus, she determined not to survive 
him. Thrasea, her son-in-law, begged her to give up this 
determination. ‘Is it your wish, then,’ he said to her, ‘if 
] should be compelled to die, that your daughter should 
die with me?’ ‘If she shall have lived as long and as 
united a life with you as | with Pztus, it is my wish,’ 
was the reply. Her family watched her carefully, to pre- 
vent her fatal design. ‘You are wasting your time,’ she 
said; ‘you will make me die a more painful death, but it 
is not in your power to prevent me from dying.’ There- 
upon she dashed her head against the wall with such vio- 
lence that she fell down as if dead. When she recovered 
her senses, she said to them: ‘I have already warned you 
that I should find some means of death, however hard, if 
you denied me an easy one.’ We cannot wonder that, to 
decide her hesitating husband, she struck herself a fatal 
blow with a poniard; then handed him the weapon, saying: 
‘Pzetus, it gives no pain.’ ”’ 

Pliny gives an account of an incident showing similar 
conjugal devotion and self-sacrificing courage. ‘‘I was 
sailing lately,’’ says he, ‘‘on our Lake Larius, when an 
elderly friend pointed out to me a house, one of whose 
rooms projected above the waves. ‘From that spot,’ he 
said, ‘a townswoman of ours threw herself out with her 
husband. The latter had long been ill, suffering from an 
incurable ulcer. When she was convinced that he could 
not recover from his disease, she exhorted him to kill 
himself, and became his companion in death—nay, rather 
his example and leader, for she tied her husband to her 
and jumped into the lake.’’’ This was a woman of the 


316 WOMAN 


common citizens; we do not even know her name. Mod- 
ern times have no examples to show of a closer marital 
sympathy than this. Our ideas compel us to deprecate 
the act of self-destruction; but we cannot question, or 
more than rival, such devotion. The like degree of faith- 
fulness between married couples was common among the 
Romans; and this was their manner of showing it. 

We have, more than once, seen the statement advanced 
in all seriousness by well-informed writers and public 
speakers that marital affection, in the modern under- 
standing of the expression, was almost unknown among the 
ancients. The object of the contention is to enhance 
the appreciation of the effects of Christianity; but the 
argument is as absurdly inconsistent with history as it is 
with common sense. True, Christianity discourages con- 
jugal unions in which that affection does not exist, but 
it does not create it; nor was there anything whatever in 
pagan customs or institutions to prevent the existence of 
the warmest and purest affection between husband and 
wife. The sole conditions in the ancient world that mili- 
tated against pure and constant married love were the 
customary unions of expediency and the inferior position 
of the wife. As to the first of these customs, it is by no 
means unknown in the modern world and to Christian 
times; in regard to the second, the Roman wife in the 
period with which we are now engaged was almost equally 
as well off as her modern descendant. 

Principles of virtue, honor, and duty of a high order had 
been inculcated through many generations of ancient Ro- 
mans; and it could not be otherwise than that these would 
reappear and manifest themselves with invincible insist- 
ence, even in the most corrupt days of the Empire. What 
higher or more dignified sense of duty could there be than 
that exhibited by the lady who had determined to send 


GOOD WOMEN OF NERO’S REIGN 317 


substantial relief to a friend of hers, banished by Domitian? 
It was represented to her that this money would be certain 
to fall into the tyrant’s hands, and that hence she would 
be only wasting her means and gratifying the unworthy. 
‘«It is of little consequence to me,”’ she said, ‘‘if Domitian 
steal it; but it is of great moment for me to send it.’? She 
possessed the sublime conviction that she was responsible 
to her consciousness of what friendship demanded, even 
though she might be certain of the miscarriage of her efforts. 

There were also women whose spirits were stirred by 
the love of freedom, and who were willing to do and dare 
and suffer in the attempt to wrest the nation from a 
tyrant’s grasp. Among those who have sacrificed their 
own lives at the altar of Liberty, the Roman woman can 
claim representatives. 

We are told that into the conspiracy against Nero which 
was headed by Caius Piso, ‘‘senators, knights, soldiers, 
and even women entered with the ardor of competition.’’ 
The plot was to attack Nero while he was singing upon 
the stage, though it was considered by some that it would 
be a better plan to set his house on fire and then despatch 
him while he was excitedly hurrying about unattended by 
his guards. ‘‘ While the conspirators were hesitating, and 
protracting the issue of their hopes and fears, a woman 
named Epicharis—and how she became acquainted with 
the affair is involved in mystery, nor had she ever mani- 
fested a concern for worthy objects before—began to ani- 
mate the conspirators, and goad them on by reproaches; 
but at length, disgusted by their dilatoriness, while sojourn- 
ing in Campania, she tried every effort to shake the alle- 
giance of the officers of the fleet at Misenum, and engage 
them in the plot.’’ 

- But, though an enthusiastic conspirator, Epicharis proved 
herself an unwary recruiting agent. She especially applied 


318 WOMAN 


herself to an old acquaintance named Proculus, who con- 
fided to her the fact that he had been one of the party 
concerned in the assassination of the emperor’s mother, 
and that he was dissatisfied with the reward he had re- 
ceived for such eminent service, he being only a minor 
officer in the fleet. He added that it was his settled pur- 
pose to be revenged, should a fitting opportunity present 
itself. Epicharis did not wait to consider the unwisdom 
of incontinently intrusting the knowledge of the whole 
plot to a man of insufficient principle to prevent him from 
looking upon the murder of a defenceless woman as an 
exploit to be liberally rewarded. Moreover, it is likely 
that she inadvertently had dropped some hint of what was 
in her mind, and Proculus lured her on by suggesting the 
possibility of himself as a convert. Epicharis first gave 
him the whole plot, and then set about persuading him to 
join it. She recounted all the atrocities of the emperor; 
and concluded with the remark ‘‘that Nero had stripped 
the Senate of all its powers; but,’’ she added, ‘‘ measures 
had been taken to punish him for overturning the consti- 
tution; and Proculus had only to address himself manfully 
to the work and bring over to their side the most energetic 
of the troops, and he might depend upon receiving suitable 
rewards.’’ 

One indiscretion she did not commit: she did not divulge 
the names of the conspirators. So, when Proculus laid 
information before the emperor—thinking doubtless that 
this was a readier path to reward than any plot of assas- 
sination of which a woman would be cognizant—his evi- 
dence was of little avail; but Nero considered it best to 
detain Epicharis in prison, in anticipation of anything that 
might occur. 

The conspirators at last concluded to perpetrate their 
design at the Cirensian games. Lateranus, a man of 


GOOD WOMEN OF NERO’S REIGN 319 


determined spirit and gigantic strength, was to approach 
the emperor as a suppliant and, apparently by accident, 
throw him down. Sczvinus was to perform the principal 
part with a dagger he had procured from the temple of 
Fortune for the purpose. Piso was ‘to wait at the temple 
of Ceres until he was summoned to the camp, which 
he was to enter attended by Antonia, the daughter of 
Claudius Czsar,—a woman of an entirely opposite char- 
acter to that of her grandmother, after whom she was 
named,—and who, it was hoped, would conciliate the 
favor of the people. How deeply Antonia was involved 
in this plot it is impossible to say. It appears improbable, 
as Tacitus remarks, that she should have lent her name 
and hazarded her life in a project from which she had 
nothing to hope. 

It was through the dagger mentioned above, and also 
the cupidity of a woman, that the whole conspiracy came 
to light. Sczvinus impatiently ordered his freedman 
Milichus to put the weapon to the grindstone and bring it 
toasharp point. Milichus, putting together this and other 
preparations he witnessed, guessed the project that was 
on foot. He told his suspicions to the emperor. Sc#vi- 
nus was arrested; but his bearing was so confident that 
the accuser would have broken down had not the wife 
of Milichus reminded him that ‘‘ Natalis had taken part in 
many secret conversations with Sczvinus, and that both 
were confidants of Piso.’? Then followed numerous arrests, 
confessions, and accusations, each conspirator endeavoring 
to lighten the burden of his own guilt by revealing how 
many there were who shared it. Lucan the poet even 
informed against his own mother, Atilla. 

Amid all this disaster, there was one spirit that remained 
undaunted, one tongue that could not be persuaded by 
promises or compelled by torment to confess and thus 


- 


320 WOMAN 


implicate others. Epicharis had been held in custody from 
the time of her unguarded enthusiasm in Campania. Nero 
recollected her, and commanded that she should be put to 
the torture. ‘‘But,’’ says the historian, ‘‘ neither stripes, 
nor fire, nor the rage of the tormentors, who tore her with 
the more vehemence, lest they should be scorned by a 
woman, could vanquish her.’? Thus the first day of tor- 
ture was passed without producing any effect upon her. 
‘The day following, as she was being brought back to 
suffer the same torments, riding in a chair, for all her 
members being disjointed, she could not support herself, 
taking off the girdle that bound her breast, she tied it ina 
noose to the canopy of the chair, and, placing her neck in 
it, hung upon it with the weight of her whole body, and 
thus forced out the slender remains of life. A freedwoman, 
by thus screening strangers and persons almost unknown 
to her, though pressed to divulge their names by the most 
extreme torture, exhibited an example which derived 
augmented lustre from the fact that freeborn persons, 
men, Roman knights, and Senators, untouched by the in- 
struments of inquisition, all betrayed their dearest pledges 
of affection.’’ 

Among the many who suffered from the discovery of 
this conspiracy was Seneca, the aged philosopher and the 
former tutor of Nero. It is probable that he was innocent; 
but he had incurred Nero’s displeasure, and the tyrant 
was glad of the opportunity to destroy him with seeming 
justice. The parting of Seneca with his wife and her 
conduct at the time well merit the pains which the his- 
torian has taken with the recital. Embracing his wife, 
he implored her to ‘‘ refrain from surrendering herself to 
endless grief; but to endeavor to mitigate her regret for 
her husband by means of those honorable consolations 
which she would experience in the contemplation of his 


GOOD WOMEN OF NERO’S REIGN 321 


virtuous life.’’ Paullina, however, expressed her determi- 
nation to die with her husband, and called for the assistance 
of the executioner to open her veins. Seneca, proud of 
her devotion and as willing to see her acquire the glory 
of such an act as he was to be assured that she was safe 
from the hard usages of the world, replied: ‘‘1 had pointed 
out to you how to soften the ills of life; but you prefer 
the renown of dying. Iwill not envy you the honor of 
the example. Though both display the same unflinching 
fortitude in encountering death, still the glory of your exit 
will be superior to mine.’’? Then they had the veins of 
their arms opened at the same moment; but being unable 
to bear up under the excessive torture, and afraid lest 
the sight of his sufferings should overpower her, Seneca 
persuaded his wife to retire into another room. 

When Nero heard what was being done, having no dis- 
like to Paullina, and not willing to incur the odium of a 
double death and one so affecting, he ordered her wounds 
to be dressed and the flow of blood stanched. She sur- 
vived but a few years, and these were devoted to the 
memory of her husband. _ It is also said that an excessive 
paleness was the continuous witness to the sacrifice to 
conjugal devotion which she had done her best to make. 

Not so fortunate was Servilia, a young woman of twenty 
who, at this time, was arraigned before the Senate, charged 
with having distributed sums of money among the magi. 
Servilia was the daughter of Soranus, who had been Pro- 
consul of Asia. There was no accusation against Servilia’s 
father more severe than that he was a friend of Plautus, 
whom Nero, for reasons utterly unjust, but entirely satis- 
factory to himself, had caused to be executed. Tacitus 
suggests the picture of her trial: the consuls on the 
judgment seat in the presence of the assembled Senate; 
on one side of that tribunal, an old, gray-haired man who 


322 WOMAN 


for many years has served his country with honor and in- 
tegrity; on the other side, the daughter, so young and yet 
widowed, for her husband has been sent into banishment, 
and hence is as dead to her. The thought that she, who 
had endeavored to aid and comfort her father, had only 
added to his dangers is so oppressive that she has not the 
heart to look at him. The accuser questions her: ‘‘ Did 
you not sell your bridal ornaments, and even the chain 
off your neck, to raise money for the peformance of magic 
rites?’’ Instead of answering, the unfortunate girl falls 
to the floor, embracing the altar, as though hoping that 
divine aid would be given, where human mercy was not 
to be expected. At last she gathers voice, and is able to 
falter: ‘‘I have used no spells; nor did I seek aught by 
my unhappy prayers than that you, Cesar, and you, 
fathers, would preserve this best of fathers unharmed. 
It was with this object alone I gave up my jewels, my 
raiment, and the ornaments belonging to my station; as I 
would have given up my blood and life, had the magi 
required them. To those men, till then unknown to me, 
it belongs to declare whose ministers they are, and what 
mysteries they use; the prince’s name was never uttered 
by me, save as one speaks of the gods. Yet to all this pro- 
ceeding of mine, if guilty it be, my most unhappy father is 
a stranger; and if it is a crime, I alone am the criminal.’’ 

Then Soranus pleads for his daughter. Her age is so 
tender that she could not have known Plautus, whose 
friend they accuse himself of being. Do they impeach 
him for mismanagement of his province? Let it be so; 
yet his daughter had not accompanied him to Asia. Her 
only crime was too much filial piety, too great solicitude 
for her father. He would gladly submit to whatever fate 
awaited him, if only they would separate her case from 
his. Overcome with emotion, the old man totters forward 


GOOD WOMEN OF NERO’S REIGN 323 


with outstretched hands to embrace his daughter, who 
springs to meet him; but the stern lictors interpose the 
fasces and deny them this sad comfort. 

The Senate exercises a heartless clemency; Servilia 
and Soranus are allowed to choose their own deaths. This 
faithful daughter, for seeking by means of her religion to 
aid her father, is privileged to die with him. With them 
also perished Thrasea, who had added to his crime of dis- 
believing in the deification of Poppza that of neglecting to 
sacrifice for the preservation of Nero’s beautiful voice! 

A strikingly magnificent feature of the old Roman char- 
acter is the manner in which these people met death. 
This was the one virtue which the Romans, down to the 
latest period of the decadence, did not cease to retain. 
In the most dissolute times, the Roman might live badly, 
but at least he could die bravely. This was the one oppor- 
tunity always left when atonement might be made for 
the errors of life. In this ability to meet death with calm 
fortitude the women shared no less than the men. The 
maids and matrons of Rome were habituated by training 
and by their best traditional examples to look upon the 
possibility of exit from the world as an ever-ready refuge 
from unendurable ills. Lucretia was for Roman matrons 
an ideal in her death as well as in her life; and they seem 
to have found it less irksome to follow her in the former 
respect than in the latter. 

In the endeavor to show how, even in the days of Nero, 
when wickedness reached its climax, virtue and honor and 
devotion were not utterly gone out of the world, it has been 
necessary to adopt as illustrations some of the saddest of 
the many tragedies of human history. Neither side of any 
true picture of this period can be a pleasing one. Human 
life in the city of Rome during the middle of the first cen- 
tury of our era was for the most part either insane or sad. 


324 WOMAN 


To exult in unrighteousness or mourn in bereavement was 
the lot of every prominent personage; for there were few 
quiet, honorable folk whom the hand of tyranny did not 
touch through their friends. Therefore, in the endeavor to 
show the better side of the life of this time, the necessity 
has been forced upon us to illustrate how the prevailing 
remnant of the ancient virtue was manifested in the devo- 
tion of women to their stricken husbands and friends, and 
in the firm manner in which they met their own death. 

That which belongs to the ordinary routine of woman’s 
life did not undergo any change during this period. The 
status of woman remained unaltered; her manners, cus- 
toms, and occupations were the same. There was no 
progress. It was like the conditions’ existing in a home 
during a terrific electrical storm; all other interests are in 
abeyance until it is over. 

This statement, however, applies more particularly to 
the city of Rome and to Italy. In the outlying parts of 
that country and in the provinces, the storm was hardly 
felt. Women who lived out of the sight of Nero and 
whose male friends did not hold office were secure from 
imperial cruelty and caprice. Their lives ran on in the 
ordinary manner of civilization. They were betrothed 
and married according to the ancient ceremonies; for cus- 
toms changed slowly away from the metropolis. They 
worshipped the old gods, though they heard now and again 
of a certain sect of fanatical people who courted their own 
destruction from the officials, if not from Olympus, by 
denouncing the ancient worship. They managed their 
homes and their slaves, read their books, as we have seen 
in the case of Calpurnia, the wife of Pliny, and visited the 
amphitheatre. The only anxieties of the women who be- 
longed to the unofficial class were those incidental to the 
rule of the proconsuls who were sent to govern them in 


GOOD WOMEN OF NERO’S REIGN 325 


the name of the emperor. Sometimes these men were 
lustful; frequently they were tyrannical; they were always 
rapacious. The people were oppressed to meet the de- 
mands of the tax collectors; but these were ills that were 
always with them and represented a condition of affairs 
that was normal. 

In his biography of his father-in-law, Agricola, who was 
himself a provincial, Tacitus says: ‘‘ He married Domitia 
Decidiana, a lady of illustrious descent, from which con- 
nection he derived credit and support in his pursuit of 
greater things. They lived together in admirable harmony 
and mutual affection, each giving the preference to the 
other; ‘‘a conduct equally laudable in both, except that a 
greater degree of praise is due to a good wife, in propor- 
tion as a bad one deserves the greater censure.’’ What 
more touching expression of family affection can there be 
found than the words Tacitus wrote in respect to Agricola’s 
death? Apostrophizing him, he says: ‘‘ But to myself and 
your daughter, besides the affliction of losing a parent, the 
aggravating affliction remains that it was not our lot to 
watch over your sickbed. With what attention should we 
have received your last instructions, and graven them on 
our hearts! This is our sorrow. Everything, doubtless, 
O best of parents, was administered for your comfort and 
honor, while a most affectionate wife sat beside you; yet 
fewer tears were shed upon your bier, and in the last light 
which your eyes beheld, something was wanting.’’ There 
is nothing in modern times superior to this in chaste and 
cultivated sympathy. 

Seneca also, who was born at Cordova, describes his 
mother as having been ‘‘ brought up in a strict home’’; 
and he assures us that his aunt, during the sixteen years 
that her husband governed Egypt, was ‘‘ unknown in the 
province,’’ so devoted was she to her family and home 


326 WOMAN 


duties. There was also Polla, the wife of Lucan, whose 
inconsolable grief at her husband’s death was so beauti- 
fully described by Statius. We read also of Minicius 
Macrinus, who lived thirty-nine years with his consort 
without a single cloud ever rising between them; while 
Martial tells us of Spurinna, a man of consular family 
loaded with years and honors, who lived in the country 
with his aged wife, each resting in the other’s affection, 
and finishing together ‘‘ the evening ofa fair life.*’ 


Chapter VIE 
Ginder the Flabians 


‘ ve 
y 


” ey ' C4 Nes 
(cas (MeL Sees 


ht 


iW, 


aan nie 


XII 


UNDER THE FLAVIANS 


SUCH sober-minded people as had survived the reign of 
Nero hailed the tyrant’s death as a deliverance, though 
they had no guaranty of the inauguration of a better state 
of things. No conceivable change could be otherwise 
than for the better. At first sight, it seems marvellous 
that the better class of Romans endured so long and with 
such supineness a shameful monstrosity like the govern- 
ment of Nero; but it must be remembered that no gov- 
ernment is other than the majority of the people desire, 
or better than they deserve. The mass of the people in 
the capital were satisfied to have an imperial mountebank 
ruling over them. Politics had ceased to interest them, 
they having wholly forfeited their liberties. They cared 
naught for the fortunes of the Empire, so long as the 
wheat ships came regularly from Alexandria. The only 
vestige of independence they retained was the privilege 
of shouting with impatience when the games were delayed; 
there were no further rights they cared to demand when 
Nero, dining in his box at the amphitheatre, threw his 
napkin from behind the curtains as a signal that he had 
finished and that the sport might commence. With such 
a populace as this, the nobler spirits in the city could 
hope to accomplish nothing. Their only recourse was to — 


329 


330 WOMAN 


glorify their passive sufferings and their death with stoical 
calmness and undismayed pride. How hopeless it was to 
expect the inauguration of a revolt among the common 
people of Rome is shown by the attitude of these people 
toward Nero’s memory after his death. For a long time, 
his tomb was continually decked with flowers. Sometimes, 
his admirers placed his image upon the rostra, dressed in 
robes of state; again, they would publish proclamations 
in his name, as though he were yet alive and would shortly 
return and avenge himself upon his enemies. Occasion- 
ally, there were rumors of his reappearance, for the reality 
of his death was doubted in many quarters, and the undis- 
guised satisfaction with which these reports were received 
is evidence that the Roman people generally were not 
yearning for reform. 

But those who were absent in the provinces, being 
neither under the immediate power of Nero nor partners 
in his excesses, did not endure with such complacence the 
shame he put upon the Roman name. Men like Galba 
and Vespasian heard with great indignation from scoffing 
foreigners how, at Rome, they had seen the emperor acting 
Orestes or even Canace on the stage. These men could 
not endure the thought of serving under a ruler who com- 
peted with a slaveborn pantomimist. Revolt flamed up 
among the legions in various parts of the Empire; the 
guards at Rome joined in it; and when Galba came, who 
had been proclaimed emperor, they gladly welcomed him. 

Rome was shaken in the very foundations of her con- 
stitutional ideals. The discovery of the possibility that 
an emperor could be created away from the city marked 
the entering of the wedge which was eventually to bring 
about the disintegration of the Empire. The legions had 
come clearly to realize that the gift of the Empire was in 
their hands. The Senate was henceforth supernumerary. 


UNDER THE FLAVIANS 331 


The city was no longer to be viewed with that supersti- 
tious reverence which had made men deem nothing sacred 
or authoritative that had not issued therefrom; it was the 
centre, but no longer the source of Empire. It soon came 
to pass that ‘‘Roman’”’ signified wide-spreading national 
inclusion rather than, as heretofore, racial exclusion; even 
a Jew might now claim to be a freeborn Roman citizen, 
though he had never seen the Capitol. 

In consequence of opposing claims to the succession, 
Italy was once more torn with civil strife, an experience 
from which she had been free ever since the days of the 
last Triumvirate. Within eighteen months three emperors 
were created and destroyed. 

Our story, however, does not deal with emperors or 
with the political history of Rome, except as it is neces- 
.sary to refer to it as a background for, or an explanation 
of, the conduct of the women who are herein introduced. 
Women played no important part in the disturbances which 
shook the Empire after the death of Nero, and which thus 
differed from many of the previous revolutions in the 
State; yet it is entirely consistent with the plan of this 
work to mention the women who were connected with the 
principal actors. 

Galba, who was an old man when he came to the 
throne, had been in his youth a great favorite of the Em- 
press Livia. By her he had been advanced in fortune 
and position. His mother’s name was Mummia Achaica, 
the daughter of Catulus; but she probably died when he 
was very young, and he owed the benefits of his training 
to Ocellina, his stepmother, who was a very remarkable 
woman in more than one respect. Beautiful and very 
wealthy, she herself made the advances in courtship to 
Galba’s father. The elder Galba became consul and was 
of considerable importance in the State; but he was a very 


332 WOMAN 


short man and deformed. There is an interesting story 
to the effect that once, when Ocellina was pressing her 
suit, Galba, in order that if there were to be any disillu- 
sionment on her part in regard to himself it might take 
place before he gave her his hand, took off in her presence 
the toga which hid the deformity of his back. The inci- 
dent shows a praiseworthy ingenuousness of disposition 
on the part of Galba; it also indicates, what is of more 
interest to us, the fact that Roman ladies were not unac- 
customed to making matrimonial advances in person and 
with unmistakable directness of purpose. Galba, the 
future emperor, was adopted by Ocellina as her own son; 
and it is safe to assume that the honesty of his character 
was in a large degree the result of her training as well as 
an inheritance from his father. 

Galba was married to AEmilia Lepida, a descendant of 
the triumvir; but she died during the reign of Claudius, and 
he never afterward married, even though he was ardently 
sought by Agrippina the Younger, who had been cuffed by 
his mother-in-law for seeking to usurp the place of Lepida 
while the latter still lived. 

During the short eight months of his reign, Galba was 
almost entirely ruled by the influence of Titus Vinius and 
Piso Licinianus, both of whom perished with him, the latter 
having been designated by him as his successor. Vinius 
met a fate which he richly deserved, and which, unfortu- 
nately for many Romans, he escaped, though barely, in the 
days of Caligula. At that time, he disgraced himself as 
the accomplice and paramour of Cornelia, the wife of his 
commander, Sabinus, she who paraded the camp at night 
in the dress of a common soldier. Cornelia, however, ex- 
piated her crime by her devotion to her husband in his mis- 
fortune ata later day. Vinius attained to fortune by means 
of methods which are well illustrated by the indignity to 


UNDER THE FLAVIANS 333 


which he submitted his daughter Crispina at the hands 
of the depraved Tigellinus. During Galba’s reign, the 
people, believing Nero to have been incited to his worst 
acts by Tigellinus, demanded the latter’s execution. Vinius 
preserved him from their rage, and thereupon Tigellinus 
gave a splendid banquet as a thanksgiving for his deliver- 
ance. This entertainment Crispina attended, accompanied 
by her father, who allowed her to receive from their 
host an immense sum of money. Tigellinus on the same 
occasion commanded his chief concubine to take from her 
own neck an extremely valuable necklace and place it 
upon that of Crispina. But she was soon compelled to 
expend her ill-gotten gains in a most pitiable manner. 
After the death of Galba, Piso, and Vinius, the soldiers 
amused themselves by carrying their heads about the city 
on the points of spears. When Crispina and Verania, the 
wife of Piso, visited the camp for the purpose of imploring 
the heads of their relatives, in order that they might be 
disposed of with funereal honor, Crispina was not allowed 
co take that of her father until she had purchased it ata 
cost of twenty-five thousand drachmas. 

Otho, who had been the husband of Poppzea Sabina, 
was the next emperor; but his reign lasted less than four 
months, and his only praiseworthy act is the noble manner 
in which he died. Then came the brief and shameful reign 
of Vitellius. Rome needed only to come under the rule of 
a glutton to have exhibited by turn upon her throne a 
monstrous example of every form of vice to which human 
nature can become addicted. 

This man was the son of that Vitellius who had soa 
shamelessly flattered Messalina and so basely deserted 
her in her extremity of need. His mother’s name was 
Sextilia, and she is reported to have been a most excellent 
and respectable woman, whose character was formed on 


334 WOMAN 


the model of the ancient morals. Her death is said to 
have been brought about by her son, in order that the 
prediction of a German prophetess might be certain of 
fulfilment, she having told him that he would reign in 
security, if he survived his mother. He is accused of 
having denied her proper nourishment during her illness. 
Suetonius, however, adds, ‘‘ that being quite weary of the 
woeful state of affairs, and apprehensive of the future, she 
obtained without difficulty a dose of poison from her son.’’ 

Petronia was the first wife of Vitellius. A separation 
took place which was probably mutually agreed upon, for 
Petronia bequeathed her property to their son; first re- 
quiring, however, that he be released from his father’s 
authority. Vitellius agreed to this; but shortly after, the 
son died by poison believed to have been administered by 
his father. A woman named Galeria Fundano became the 
second wife of Vitellius; but of her nothing more is known 
than that Tacitus speaks of her gentle disposition. 

With Vitellius, to reign meant merely to feast royally. 
In this, however, he was only the leading and most note- 
worthy exponent of a vice characteristic of his time. 
Gluttony, among the Romans, had come to be exalted to 
an art; and, in proof that the women of those days were 
not exempt from it, historians inform us that it was com- 
mon for individuals of the female sex to be afflicted with 
the gout. Suetonius thus describes the kind of feasting to 
which Vitellius accustomed the nobility of Rome: ‘‘ At a 
supper given him by his brother, on the day of his arrival 
in Rome, there were served two thousand rare fishes and 
seven thousand birds. But Vitellius threw into the shade 
all this profusion by using on his own table a huge dish, 
which he named the Shield of Minerva. In it were livers 
of plaice, brains of pheasants and peacocks, flamingoes’ 
tongues, roe of lamprey, and a thousand other things 


UNDER THE FLAVIANS 335 


which the ships of war had sought from the remotest 
border of the Euxine to the Pillars of Hercules.’’ 

This dish of Vitellius was made of silver. What its 
exact weight was we do not know; but inasmuch as a 
freedman of Claudius had constructed one of five hun- 
dred pounds weight, which was evidently infevior, we 
can well believe the ancient writer when he tells us that 
the Shield of Minerva was of such prodigious size that a 
special furnace had to be constructed for its manufacture. 
It was kept as a monument of extravagance until the time 
of Hadrian, who caused it to be melted. 

The brief reign of Vitellius was closed in a paroxysm of 
civil strife, which ended within the walls of the city itself. 
For more than a hundred years,—ever since the sack of 
Perusia, in which Fulvia played so prominent a part,—the 
women of Italy had been free from the bitter experiences 
of war. They knew nothing of the cruelties and atrocities 
which followed in the wake of ancient battle, except from 
stories told by grandmothers at nightfall. Now they were 
to suffer those evils themselves. 

_In warfare, more than in any other experience, man 
reverts to his original barbarous, or rather purely animal, 
type. It is noticeable also that in war, and especially in 
civil war, women regain some of that ferocity which char- 
acterizes the female of the lower types of animals. In the 
reign of terror during the French Revolution, there were 
many women who showed themselves as bloodthirsty as 
any of the men who composed the Committee of Public 
Safety. So, in the struggles which accompanied the short- 
lived reigns of these three Roman emperors there were 
many women who engaged in the battles; and there 
were some who distinguished themselves by conduct not 
often exhibited to the discredit of the female sex. Triaria, 
for example, who was the wife of Lucius Vitellius, the 


336 WOMAN 


brother of the emperor, is described as having been a 
woman of the most furious spirit. When Dolabella, who 
had married Petronia, was in danger of his life, Triaria 
warned a friend who sought to save him that it would not 
be good for that friend to seek the exercise of clemency; 
and when Tarracina was sacked by the Vitellian soldiers, 
this same Triaria, armed with the sword of a soldier, urged 
on the men to murder and rapine. 

In the final strife between the forces of Vitellius and 
Vespasian, the city of Cremona, which was held by the 
former, was besieged. Tacitus informs us that, in their 
zeal for the cause which their city had adopted, some of 
the women of Cremona took part on the field of battle and 
were slain. In view of what followed at the taking of 
their city, they were fortunate in their lot. ‘‘ Forty thou- 
sand men,’’ says the historian, ‘‘ poured into it. The 
number of drudges and camp followers was still larger, 
and more addicted to lust and cruelty. Neither age nor 
dignity served as a protection; deeds of lust were perpe- 
trated amidst scenes of carnage, and murder was added to 
rape. Aged women who had passed their prime, and who 
were useless as booty, were made the objects of brutal 
sport. Maidens were contended for by ruffians who ended 
by turning their swords against each other.’’ 

The bloodshed and rapine were carried into the city of 
Rome itself. When he saw that his case was hopeless, 
the ignoble, indolent Vitellius wished to abdicate; but this 
neither his soldiers nor the people would allow him to do. 
Flavius Sabinus was prefect of the city, and he, with the 
soldiers of the Vespasian party, took refuge in the Capitol. 
There were women who voluntarily took their places with 
these besieged men. Among them was Verulana Gratilla, 
who, having neither children nor relatives, followed the 
fortunes of the war for no other apparent reason than 


UNDER THE FLAVIANS 337 


the pleasure she derived from scenes of carnage. In this 
conflict the Capitol was fired and the temple of the Empire 
reduced to ashes. Yet, while all these things were occur- 
ring, the common people of Rome, indifferent as to whether 
they were ruled by Vitellius or Vespasian, looked on as 
if they were at a gladiatorial show. It was to them 
nothing more than a spectacle, except that it was also an 
occasion for absolute lawlessness and an incitement to 
frenzied indulgence in everything vicious. So brutalized 
were the people that, while in some parts of the great city 
the streets were filled with heaps of slain, in other parts, 
to which the conflict did not extend, there prevailed revelry 
of the most frantic kind, in which shameless women took 
a leading part. 

The legions of Vespasian conquered; and with his en- 
thronement Rome returned to peace and sanity. The 
enormities in which she had indulged since the reign of 
Augustus were for the time expiated. 

In the Flavians, a new and healthy dynasty came to 
the throne of the Czsars, though not later than the third 
reign, that of Domitian, it also was to succumb to the 
effects of the possession of unbounded power. Vespasian 
had come from an obscure family living at Reate in the 
Sabine country. His father had collected the revenue in 
the province of Asia, where his statue had been erected 
with the inscription: The Honest Tax Collector. His mother, 
whose name was Vespasia Polla, was descended from a 
good Umbrian family. Tertulla, his grandmother by his 
father’s side, had charge of his education, and her memory 
was always held by him in the highest regard; much more 
than appears is suggested in the remark of Suetonius that, 
after his advancement to the Empire, Vespasian loved to 
visit the place where he spent his childhood. The house 
and all the surroundings were kept exactly in the same 


338 WOMAN 


condition, so that amid unchanged scenes he might live 
over again his boyhood days. It was a simple country 
house, with no pretension to the splendor in which the 
great mansions of the city vied with each other; yet it 
was artistic. 

In those times, not even the simplest farmstead was 
without its statuary; and we may well believe that, as 
Tertulla, in the courts of Phalacrine, superintended the 
education of the future builder of the Colosseum, she could 
point to examples of sculptured beauty to illustrate those 
ideas of art which were included in every Roman’s train- 
ing. In the great common room, where the work of the 
house was done, and where, on winter evenings, the slaves 
were kept busy with useful occupations, Polla presided, 
as had the matrons of the old days. In the atrium she 
entertained her rural neighbors in simple style; and there 
also she sometimes lectured her son, who greatly displeased 
her by his tardiness in putting off his boyish ways. She 
was ambitious for him, and longed to hurry him away to 
Rome, that in the stir of the city or the camp he might 
win renown for the Vespasian name. Polla little under- 
stood that the time her son spent, idly, as she supposed, 
watching the teams and cattle about the drinking troughs 
of the inner court, was fortifying him to withstand the 
moral dangers of a court of another sort. The rugged, 
straightforward, simple-mannered soldier, who honored 
festival occasions by drinking from a silver cup which 
he treasured as a keepsake from his grandmother, was 
such an emperor as the Romans had not before seen the 
like of. 

Flavia Domitilla was the wife of Vespasian; but she did 
not survive to participate with him in the imperial dignity. 
Of her life and character we know little. There is in 
existence but one likeness of her—a colossal head found 


UNDER THE FLAVIANS 339 


near Puteoli and now preserved in the Campana Museum. 
This gives her the appearance of a strikingly handsome 
woman, with a suggestion of pride, but not too powerful 
to overcome the aspect of good nature. Suetonius says 
that she was at first the mistress of Statilius Capella, a 
Roman knight. It may seem strange that a man of Ves- 
pasian’s character should marry a woman who had sus- 
tained such a former relation; but in those times, wives 
with a past history in which their present husbands had 
played no part were not so rare that they were even 
remarkable. Domitilla enjoyed by birth all the legal 
privileges of a Latin woman, but she was not a citizen of 
Rome until a suit had been brought by her father for her 
in the courts. Possibly this suit was instituted in regard 
to her inheritance of property; for the privileges of citizen- 
ship, as they related to women, consisted of the ability to 
receive legacies and bequeath property, and to form such 
matrimonial unions as would be held valid when brought 
into question in matters concerning property. It is very 
likely that the explanation of the fact that Domitilla is 
spoken of as the mistress rather than the wife of Statilius 
is to be found in the further fact that, he being a Roman 
knight and she not yet a citizen of Rome, legal marriage 
could not take place between the two. Suetonius tells us 
that after the death of Domitilla, Vespasian renewed his 
union with his former concubine Cenis, the freedwoman 
and former amanuensis of Antonia, whom he treated, even 
after he became emperor, almost as if she had been his 
legal wife; and it is safe for us to suppose that, had he 
been legally able to do so, Vespasian would have made 
Cznis Empress of Rome. 

Domitilla bore her husband three children: Titus and 
Domitian, who became emperors in succession, and Domi- 
tilla, who died before her father attained to the purple. 


340 WOMAN 


The salutary influence of Vespasian’s character was 
soon made apparent in the improvement of Roman morals. 
He was not an energetic reformer; but he curtailed those 
abuses which were most flagrant, and himself set an ex- 
ample which those who desired his favor found it to their 
advantage to follow. He expelled from the Senate those 
who were extraordinarily vicious in their lives, and among 
them one who had, by request of Nero, contended with a 
Greek girl in the arena. He required the Senate to pass 
a decree that any woman who entered into a liaison with 
the slave of another person should be herself considered a 
slave—a law which indicates to what lengths the license 
of women had carried them during the preceding reigns. 

One act of cruelty to a woman stains the records of this 
reign. An insurrection had been stamped out in Belgium; 
but Sabinus, the leader, had made his escape. His house 
was burned; still he could easily have escaped into Ger- 
many, but that he was unwilling to leave his young wife, 
Eponia, unprotected as well as homeless. ‘‘ He concealed 
himself in an underground hiding place, whose entrance 
was known only to two faithful freedmen. He was be- 
lieved to be dead; and his wife, sharing the opinion of 
those around her, had been for three days plunged in in- 
consolable affliction. Being secretly informed, however, 
that Sabinus was alive, she concealed her delight, and was 
conducted to his place of refuge, where in the end she 
determined also to remain. After seven months, the hus- 
band and wife ventured to emerge, and made a journey to 
Rome for the purpose of soliciting pardon. But being 
warned in season that the petition would be in vain, they 
left Rome without seeing the emperor, and again sheltered 
themselves in their subterranean refuge. Here they lived 
together during nine years. Being at last discovered, 
Sabinus was taken to Rome, where Vespasian ordered his 


UNDER THE FLAVIANS 341 


execution. Eponia had followed her husband, and she 
threw herself at the emperor’s feet. ‘Cesar,’ she cried, 
showing her two sons, who were with her, ‘these have I 
brought forth and nourished in the tombs, that two more 
suppliants might implore thy clemency.’ Those present 
were moved to tears, and even Vespasian himself was 
affected; but he remained inflexible. Eponia then asked 
to die with him whom she had been unable to save. ‘I 
have been more happy with him,’ she said, ‘in darkness 
and under ground, than thou in supreme power.’ Her 
second request was granted her. Plutarch met at Delphi 
one of their children, who related to him this sad and 
touching story.’? Why this usually tolerant and always 
sensible emperor should have been so inexorable on this 
occasion is a mystery. 

There is another instance recorded, in which a woman 
of different character, presenting a petition of another 
kind, received an acquiescent response. A lady of rank 
pretending, as Suetonius puts it, to be desperately enam- 
ored of Vespasian,—it must have been that she hoped to 
achieve a permanent relationship with the widowed em- 
peror,—requested that which it would have been more 
consistent with her modesty to have avoided. In addition 
to granting her petition, Vespasian made her a present of 
four hundred thousand sesterces. When his steward asked 
how he would have the sum entered in his accounts, he 
replied: ‘‘ For Vespasian’s being seduced.’’ Considering, 
however, the parsimonious character which the historian 
attributes to this emperor, we are more inclined to think 
that the sum must have been entered on the credit side of 
the ledger. 

Vespasian died in A.D. 79. The humor—which is the 
same thing as saying the sanity—of the man is manifested 
in his remark, as he felt his life ebbing away: ‘‘ Well, 


342 WOMAN 


I suppose I shall soon be a god.’’ Pliny says of him. 
‘‘Greatness and majesty produced in him no other effect 
than to render his power of doing good equal to his desire.’”’ 
Suetonius declares: ‘‘ By him the State was strengthened 
and adorned.”’ 

In this same year occurred the destruction of Pompeii 
and Herculaneum. These two cities, by the manner in 
which they were by one event both destroyed and pre- 
served, have afforded us so much material for the study 
of Roman home life that a reference to them is entirely in 
accord with the plan of this book. Among the Romans, 
even more so than among ourselves, woman’s life was 
home life. As we look into those Pompeian houses, which 
the catastrophe of a day rendered impregnable to the siege 
of centuries, we see in reality before us much which the 
scraps of information afforded by the ancient writers fail _ 
to make intelligible. By a singular good fortune, we are 
in possession of the narrative furnished by a trustworthy 
eyewitness of the disaster which overwhelmed Pompeii; 
it is contained in the two letters which Pliny the Younger 
wrote to Tacitus, informing him how Pliny and his mother 
watched the eruption of Vesuvius while his uncle was 
perishing in the attempt to rescue the wife of a friend and 
at the same time to satisfy his spirit of inquiry. We will 
not recite the well-known account, except as it refers to 
the women who, if for no other reason than that it was 
their fate or fortune to be present on this memorable occa- 
sion, deserve a mention in the history of Roman women. 
Pliny says: ‘‘ On the twenty-fourth of August, about one 
in the afternoon, my uncle was desired by my mother to 
observe a cloud which appeared of a very unusual size and 
shape. . . . This extraordinary phenomenon excited 
his philosophical curiosity to take a nearer view of it. He 
ordered a light vessel to be got ready, and gave me the 


UNDER THE FLAVIANS 343 


liberty, if I thought proper, to attend him. I preferred 
to continue my studies. . . . As he was coming out 
of the house, he received a note from Rectina, the wife of 
Bassus, who was in the utmost alarm at the imminent 
danger which threatened her; for her villa being situated 
at the foot of Mount Vesuvius, there was no way to escape 
but by sea; she earnestly entreated him, therefore, to 
come to her assistance. He accordingly changed his first 
design, and what he began with a philosophical turn of 
mind he pursued with heroic purpose. He ordered the 
galleys to put to sea and himself went on board, with an 
intention of assisting not only Rectina, but several others, 
for villas stand extremely thick upon that beautiful coast.’’ 
In this design he was unsuccessful; so he went to what is 
now called Castellamare, in the Gulf of Naples. While 
there he was suffocated by the poisonous gases which 
accompanied the eruption. In a second letter, Pliny de- 
scribes his mother and himself seeking to escape from the 
effects of a ‘‘black and dreadful cloud, bursting with an 
igneous, serpentine vapor, darting out a long train of fire, 
resembling flashes of lightning, but much larger. 

Soon the cloud seemed to descend, and cover the whole 
ocean, as indeed it entirely hid the island of Capreze and 
the promontory of Misenum. My mother strongly con- 
jured me to make my escape, at any rate, which, as I was 
young, I might easily do; as for herself, she said, her age 
and corpulency rendered all attempts of that sort impossi- 
ble. However, she would willingly meet death, if she could 
have the satisfaction of seeing that she was not the occa- 
sion of mine. But I absolutely refused to leave her, and 
taking her by the hand I led her on, she complying with 
great reluctance, and with many reproaches to herself for 
retarding my flight. . . . Darkness overspread us, not 
like that of a cloudy night, or when there is no moon, but 


344 WOMAN 


of a room when it is shut up and all the lights are extinct. 
Nothing was then to be heard but the shrieks of women, 
the screams of children, and the cries of men. Some 
calling for their children, others for their parents, others 
for their husbands, and only distinguishing each other by 
their voices; one lamenting his own fate, another that of 
his family; some wishing to die from the very fear of dying; 
some lifting their hands to the gods; but the greater part 
imagining that the last and eternal night was come, which 
was to destroy the gods and the world together. 
Heavy showers of ashes rained upon us, which we were 
obliged every now and then to shake off, otherwise we 
should have been crushed and buried in the heap.’’ The 
mother and the son escaped, however, and returned to 
Misenum, where in the midst of still threatening danger 
they awaited news of the intrepid and fated naturalist. 
Two-fifths of the city of Pompeii have now been cleared, 
and we can see the external conditions of the Roman 
woman’s life as it would have been impossible for modern 
times to conceive them had it not been for that ancient 
catastrophe. We can see the streets as they were in the 
days of Agrippina; we can look into the shops where 
the women of ancient Italy sought bargains across the 
marble counters; we can go to the temples where they 
worshipped, to the theatre where they were thrilled and 
amused; indeed, we have a theatre ticket, with the number 
of the seat and the name of the play. Best of all, we can 
enter houses almost intact, and examine the environments 
of that home life which in all ages is the special domain of 
woman. No account of woman can be made complete 
without a study of her home, and for this reason we quote 
freely from M. Boissier’s fine description of the Pompeian 
residence. ‘‘ The principal rooms are all on the ground 
floor. The richest inhabitants build themselves houses 


UNDER THE FLAVIANS 345 


situated on four streets, thus occupying the whole block. 
If they were economical, they cut off from this large plot 
of ground some strips, which they let for a good sum; and 
we sometimes find shops occupying the whole exterior of 
the house. While with us the front is reserved for the 
best rooms, in Pompeii it was given up to business pur- 
poses, or else closed with thick walls, in which there were 
no openings. The whole house, instead of looking toward 
the street, faces the interior. It communicates with the 
outer world only by the entrance door, kept strictly closed 
and guarded; there are few windows, and these only in the 
upper stories. Families wished to live in private, far from 
the indifferent and from strangers. . . . The head 
of the house did not desire to look into the street, and 
he was specially averse to having persons in the street 
look into his house. Even within the mansion he had 
divisions and distinctions. The part into which he wel- 
comed his visitors was not that to which he retired with 
his family; and it was not easy to penetrate into this 
sanctuary, separated from every other part by corridors, 
closed by doors or hangings, and guarded by porters. The 
owner received when he wished, he remained in seclusion 
when so inclined; and in case any client, more troublesome 
and obstinate than usual, lingered in the vestibule to meet 
him on his way out, he had a back door on a narrow street, 
which permitted him to escape. : 

‘If the rooms are not large, they are numerous. The 
Roman used his residence as he did his slaves; he had dif- 
ferent rooms for each event of the day, as he had servants 
for every necessity of life. Each room in his house is 
made precisely for the use to which it is destined. He 
is not satisfied, as we are, with a single dining room; he 
has them of various sizes, and he uses one or another at 
different seasons of the year, or according to the number of 


346 WOMAN 


friends whom he wishes to entertain. The chamber where 
he takes his siesta during the day and that to which he 
retires to sleep at night are very small, admitting light 
and air only through the door, which is not a disadvantage 
in the South, where coolness is promoted by darkness. 
Besides, he is there only while he is asleep; for the rest 
he has his afrium and his peristylium. 

‘‘Here he prefers to stay when he is at home. He is 
here not only with his wife and children, but under the 
eyes of his servants, and sometimes in their society. In 
spite of his fancy for seclusion and isolation, of which I 
have spoken, he does not shun their company; for the 
family of antiquity is more extensive than ours. It em- 
braces, while recognizing their inferiority, the slave and 
the freedman; so that the master, in living with them, feels 
himself among his own people. These open and closed 
atria, where the family spends its time, are found in all 
Pompeian houses without exception; they are indispensable 
to furnish light for the rest of the dwelling. Consequently, 
all persons, even the poorer classes, took pleasure in orna- 
menting them tastefully, and sometimes with profusion. 
If the extent of ground permitted it, various shrubs were 
planted, and a few flowers were made to grow.”’ 

Rome had for its next emperor Titus, who, in the two 
years of his reign, showed himself the best and wisest 
ruler Rome had ever known. ‘‘I have lost a day,’’ he 
said, when at evening he could not remember having af- 
forded anyone assistance. He inherited his father’s good 
sense, he had profited by the elder’s experience, and he 
came to the throne after having tasted and become satiated 
with the vices common to his age. He first married Arri- 
cidia, the daughter of a knight. Of her we know nothing 
further. After her death, he took to wife Marcia Furnilla, 
a woman of very noble family, but probably of ignoble 


UNDER THE FLAVIANS 347 


mind, for he divorced her, and retained the custody of 
their daughter. This was a Julia, who was true to the 
character common to the imperial women of that name. 
We shall have occasion to discuss her a little later. 

The woman with whose history the name of Titus was 
chiefly connected and who exerted more influence upon his 
life than any other was Berenice, the daughter of Agrippa 
the Great. She was a Jewess by race, but Roman in 
sympathy as well as by allegiance; and for character she 
may well be classed with such Roman ladies as Poppza or 
Julia the daughter of Augustus. She was first married to 
Herod of Chalcis; but he died, and for a long while she 
remained a widow in the company and under the pro- 
tection of her brother Agrippa. During this time, the pair 
paid a visit to Rome, and while on the way stopped at 
Czsarea, where Festus was governor. Here Berenice 
listened to the Apostle Paul, as he made his eloquent plea 
in answer to his accusers and appealed to the tribunal of 
Czsar. Berenice’s continued widowhood, joined with the 
known laxity of her morals, caused ugly stories to be set 
afloat regarding her relations with her brother; whereupon 
she induced Polemon, King of Cilicia, to become a prose- 
lyte to Judaism and marry her. This marriage seems to 
have been unsatisfactory to both parties, for Berenice soon 
returned to Jerusalem, and Polemon recanted from his 
Jewish faith. At this time, Titus was with his father 
in Judea, and, though Berenice was much older than he, 
the young Roman was fascinated by her extraordinary 
beauty, so much so that he took her with him on his return 
to Rome. She was given apartments in the palace, and 
there, to all appearance, she lived with Titus as his wife. 
In fact, he would have made her his wife indeed, had it 
not been for the strong prejudices of the Romans against 
foreign alliances; but when he succeeded to the throne, 


348 WOMAN 


rather than that his rule should be impaired by any 
scandal, he sent Berenice away, though the separation 
was the source of poignant grief to them both. 

Titus died twenty-six months after he came to the 
throne, and his brother Domitian—who, unfortunately for 
the history of Rome, possessed a healthier constitution 
as well as an inferior disposition—reigned in his stead. 
Domitian has been called the second Nero, the character 
of his reign being very similar to that of Nero’s rule. This 
unworthy son of Vespasian had disgraced his youth by 
vicious extravagances of all kinds; but, on coming to the 
throne, he seemed to have reformed. This, however, was 
only temporary. As has been remarked, on the day of 
coronation there are few bad monarchs. All begin well; 
but the majority of despots end badly. 

Domitian even began his reign as a reformer. He con- 
stituted himself censor. In this capacity his attention was 
turned first to the college of Vestal Virgins, who had so 
far forgotten the character which was the prime essen- 
tial to their office that they had become notorious for the 
licentiousness of their conduct. Three of these priest- 
esses received an order to make away with themselves. 
Cornelia, the chief Vestal and the worst offender, was 
condemned to suffer the prescribed punishment of en- 
tombment. In the story of her death there is an incident 
worthy of note as illustrating the effrontery which may be 
developed in a woman by a habitual though unwarranted 
assumption of superior holiness. As she was descending 
to the tomb, Cornelia’s veil caught on the steps; when an 
official offered to disentangle it, the Vestal in a horrified 
manner bade him desist, as her consecrated character could 
not endure the profane touch of a man. 

Domitian, moreover, passed an edict prohibiting to pros- 
titutes the use of the ectica, or travelling chair; they also 


UNDER THE FLAVIANS 349 


lost the right of receiving legacies or inheriting estates. 
But this enthusiasm for morality was short-lived, and his 
censorship never interfered with his own indulgences or 
extended to his own family. The empress of that day was 
Domitia Longina, who seems to have been a woman who 
would find the extravagances of Nero’s libidinous enter- 
tainments entirely consistent with her character and tastes. 
She fell desperately in love with Paris, the famous actor 
of the time. In consequence she was divorced; but her 
husband, unable to endure the separation, recalled her on 
the pretence that it was demanded by the people. Her 
influence over the emperor is perhaps further indicated by 
the fact that we hear of nothing sinister having happened 
to Paris; but the Senator Helvidius, who, under the char- 
acter of OEnone, held Domitia up to scorn in a farce which 
he wrote, was put to death. There is in existence a bust 
of Domitia Longina, but the sole reflection which her ap- 
peayance suggests is the amount of labor and care which 
must have been demanded of her slaves in the production 
of the innumerable tiny curls in which her hair is arranged. 

During the lifetime of Titus, his daughter Julia was 
offered to Domitian in marriage, the example of Agrippina 
and Claudius having established the legality of a union 
between an uncle anda niece. But at this time Domitia 
ruled the heart of the future emperor. Afterward, the 
unhappy Julia was induced to enter into a criminal inter- 
course with Domitian, and lost her life in an attempt to 
destroy its proof. This was a danger which was fre- 
quently incurred by married women, in order to prevent 
the birth of legitimate offspring. Large families in wealthy 
houses were exceedingly rare. In the Museum of the 
Vatican there is a statue of Julia, represented as the god- 
dess Clemency. There is also in existence a profile en- 
graved upon stone, as well as a bust which is preserved in 


350 WOMAN 


the Uffizi Gallery. It requires but a glance at these like- 
nesses to enable one to understand why the Greeks called 
Julia ‘‘ The New Juno.’”’ 

During the reign of Domitian, the Colosseum, the build- 
ing of which had been commenced by Vespasian, was 
completed and opened. In this immense amphitheatre 
there were seats for eighty-seven thousand spectators, 
and fifteen thousand more were able to find standing room. 
In its arena, during each year, hundreds of men—gladia- 
tors, criminals, and Christians—fought and fell in mortal 
agony for the amusement of those great audiences, of 
which women formed a goodly proportion. There sat the 
empress in a front box which was especially designed for 
the Vestals; and it frequently happened that the scene 
upon which the eyes of those ladies rested was the man- 
gling of the bodies of Christian women by the claws and 
teeth of ferocious beasts. 

Women also voluntarily took their places in the arena. 
Races in the stadium between young girls were frequent, 
nor was it a thing entirely unknown for women to engage 
in the deadly sport of the gladiators. Sometimes they 
faced the wild animals; and at times they even took the 
trident and the net of the refiarit and tried their skill 
against the swordsmen. Juvenal has his fling at Mevia, 
who, ‘‘ with breast exposed, grasps the hunting spear and 
transfixes the Tuscan boar.’’ The satirist also exercises 
his grim humor on the picture of a woman practising the 
art of fencing. ‘‘Who has not beheld the wounds of 
the wooden post, which she dints with courageous foil, 
and attacks with her shield, and goes against with skilful 
precision? A matron most preéminently worthy to dance 
to the trumpet at the indecent Floral games. Perhaps, 
however, she is meditating a more serious purpose, and 
intends to engage in real earnest at the amphitheatre, for 


UNDER THE FLAVIANS 351 


hire. What modesty can a woman show that wears a hel- 
met, eschews her sex, and delights in feats of strength?’’ 

It would have been a marvel if Domitian had been 
allowed to end his life otherwise than by violent means. 
Suetonius accuses Domitia of being privy to her husband’s 
assassination, but does not explain in what way she took 
part in it. Suetonius had a rare nose for scandal, and 
always believed the worst. The emperor was killed by a 
freedman, a steward of Domitilla. 


‘When he dreadful to the rabble grew, 
Him, who so many lords had slain, they slew.’’ 


Again in the death of this tyrant we see how the woman 
love for an innocent babe will survive every: vice of the 
grown man. There was in the palace a woman named 
Phyllis, who had been Domitian’s nurse. She was the 
only one who showed any respect for the dead emperor. 
First, she had his body interred at his villa in the Latin 
Way; then, when she found a safe opportunity, she burned 
the remains and, carrying the ashes to the mausoleum 
of the Flavian family, mingled them with those of Julia, 
whose nurse she had also been. 

The Empress Domitia seems to have survived her hus- 
band many years; for an inscription, the date of which 
corresponds with the year 140, mentions that one of her 
freedmen, after building a temple to her, offers the decu- 
riones of Gabii fifteen thousand sesterces, the income of 
which was to be spent in keeping the building in repair 
and in celebrating the birthday of his mistress. 

The period of Roman history which we have traversed 
in our study of woman shows the ancient pagan Empire at 
‘ts best materially and at its worst morally. We are about 
to enter upon a new epoch. We shall speedily begin to 
notice premonitions of decline, but we shall not again 


352 WOMAN 


witness such an absolute and all-prevalent abandonment 
of the requirements of morality. From the days of Cesar 
Augustus down to the end of the reign of Domitian, all 
that is recorded of Roman women, with a few noble ex- 
ceptions, is little more than a wearisome repetition of 
instances of astonishing sensuality. Why was it that the 
women of this period indulged to such an unnatural and 
unrestrained degree the grosser appetites? It was not 
because they were unacquainted with the most emphatic 
precepts of morality. Their ancestors had idealized femi- 
nine chastity as it has been exalted among no other people 
in the history of the world. The virtue of temperance 
was taught by their philosophers in the most eloquent 
language; and the diatribes of their satirists are evidence 
that the Roman conscience was not wholly at rest in 
regard to the excesses which were prevalent. How then 
are we to account for this monotonous orgy of libidinosity ? 

So far as the question concerns the emperors, there is 
but one answer: it is found in their unbounded power, in 
which, their will being responsible to no one, they were 
absolutely at liberty to indulge caprice or lustful impulse 
to the extent of their personal capabilities. When, as was 
natural in the circumstances, the characters of these poten- 
tates were warped in the wrong direction, their influence, 
not to speak of their tyrannical power, was incalculably 
detrimental to female virtue. But the real underlying 
cause for the sensuality of the women whom we have 
brought into review was the utter purposelessness of their 
lives, joined to an entire lack of all spiritual impulses in 
the direction of self-respect. The Roman woman’s life 
during the period under discussion was one of absolute 
ease and unbounded luxury, although the possibility of 
abject physical misery, in the form of banishment or a 
violent death, always hovered near. Luxury is always 


UNDER THE FLAVIANS 353 


conducive to sexual incontinence; and, as is well known, 
customary peril engenders recklessness. The minds of 
the Roman women were not fortified by adequate spir- 
itual impressions to offset these impulses. Such ideas 
of chastity as were inherited from the ancient customs 
were not founded on a belief in the dignity of womanhood, 
but rather on the conception of marriage as a property 
right held by the husband in the person of the wife. 
Adultery was the infringement of the husband’s property 
rights, rather than an injury to a woman’s personal worth 
to herself. When divorce for political reasons became 
common, the sense of the validity of those rights grew 
correspondingly dim. A woman, seeing that she was mar- 
ried not for her person, but for the sake of her friends, 
came herself to set little store by that which to her hus- 
band was not the chief item in the contract. The arid 
formalism of her religion also gave but little support to 
any restraining instincts of self-respect. It needed a new 
religion to enable woman to rediscover in herself a spiritual 
nature, which could be tainted and injured by the abuse of 
the body. 


Chapter XLT 
Che Sunset Glow of Paganism 


All 


THE SUNSET GLOW OF PAGANISM 


GIBBON expresses the opinion that in no period of the 
world’s history has the human race been happier or more 
prosperous than during the time which elapsed between 
the reigns of Domitian and Commodus. There is not a 
little that may be said in support of this remarkable con- 
clusion. Under Nerva, Trajan, Hadrian, and the Anto- 
nines, the Empire enjoyed the calm and brilliant evening 
following a long day of bitter strife and perilous turmoil, 
and preceding the moral darkness of the rule of the tyrants 
under whom paganism was fated to expire. 

During this period, Italy and the interior provinces of 
the Empire were entirely free from the rude alarms of war. 
The home of that day was as secure from violence as it is 
among ourselves at the present time. No wife or daughter 
had occasion unavailingly to beg the life of husband or 
father from the jealous or timid cruelty of a self-indulgent 
ruler. In the home circle, there was no foreboding dread 
of proscription. The terrible laws regarding crimen majes- 
tatis, under which so many cruelties had been perpetrated 
and so many families unjustly bereaved, were held in 
abeyance. Pliny writes to Trajan: ‘‘It is said, sir, that a 
woman and her sons have been buried in the same place 
where your statue is set up.’’ This, under some of the 

357 


358 WOMAN 


former emperors, would have been a grave matter; a 
woman was executed under Domitian because she dis- 
robed before a statue of the emperor. But Trajan writes: 
‘You should not have hesitated about such a question, 
for you know very well that I do not propose to make my 
hame respected by terror and by accusations of treason. 
Dismiss this charge, which I shall not consider.’’ 

The people were prosperous. The vast extent of the 
Roman dominion, with its thoroughly organized and cen- 
tralized government and its easy means of communication, 
interchanged a wonderful abundance and variety of the 
products of industry and commerce. At no time previous 
to the discovery of America did housewife ever draw the 
supplies for her table and her wardrobe from such widely 
separated quarters of the earth’s surface as did the Roman 
woman in the time of Hadrian. As a modern historian has 
said: ‘‘ The world was opened; the most secluded places 
had become accessible; all things circulated without let 
or hindrance. It was free trade, with its advantageous 
results in abundance and low prices. All the produce of 
the world came into Rome by the Tiber. The women 
of the Bernese Oberland bought their ornaments of a 
jeweller in Asia Minor, and thought less of it than we of 
procuring rugs from Smyrna or Damascus.’’ 

The people also were protected by salutary laws. The 
women of that day, when they went to the shops and 
purchased by weight or measure, were assured of honest 
dealing. There were standards kept in the municipal cities, 
and every tradesman was obliged to have his weights and 
measures tested by them; he was also subject to unan- 
nounced inspection. Never were wise laws more per- 
fectly executed. How thoroughly the mind of Trajan 
was imbued with the idea that his mission was to admin- 
ister the Empire for the benefit of the people is shown by 


THE SUNSET GLOW OF PAGANISM 359 


his correspondence with Pliny. Hadrian spent almost 
the whole of his reign in travelling from one province 
to another, in order that he might not only satisfy his 
curiosity, but also secure good government by personal 
inspection. 

The people also enjoyed a fair semblance of liberty. 
True, they were not free. The rule of the Antonines 
was as absolute as that of the first Caesars; but the em- 
perors of the period we are describing, ostentatiously and 
to the great contentment of the people, professed to ad- 
minister the laws only as they were enacted by the Senate 
and to be themselves governed by the constitution. It 
was but a phantom of liberty, truly; but when has the 
world really seen more? The five emperors who followed 
Domitian exercised their absolute power under the guid- 
ance of virtue and wisdom; and, whether or not it were an 
honorable peace, the people were contented and happy. 

The effect of this wise, strong, all-pervading government 
must have been made especially apparent in the woman’s 
world of that time. There are no gains for women in 
war. The glory sought by man is no compensation for 
the wife’s anxiety entailed by her fear of bereavement. 
In the hazards of foreign strife or the dangers of civil 
turmoil, woman may exemplify those possibilities of her 
character which reveal themselves in the heroism of devo- 
tion or resignation; but the normal qualities of her nature 
do not expand as in the quiet comfort of a home life where 
safety is assured. 

In the history of Roman women, down to the period 
which we have now reached, there has been no opportunity 
to ascertain what the combined influences of culture and 
peace might accomplish. In the ancient Republic, culture 
of any appreciable degree was absent and life was contin- 
uously strenuous. In later days, when Roman hardihood 


360 WOMAN 


was first touched by Greek civilization, and the love of 
letters began to find a place in woman’s life, the Roman 
matron, though admirable and statuesque, was too heroic 
in her virtue to be altogether attractive. A writer of a 
later day—than whom none more keenly regretted the 
ancient purity—felt this. ‘‘ Let her be more chaste than 
any single Sabine that, with hair dishevelled, rushed be- 
tween the combatants and brought the war to a close; let 
her be a very phoenix upon earth, rare as a black swan; 
who could tolerate a wife in whom all excellencies are 
concentrated! I would rather, far rather, have a country 
maiden from Venusia than you, O Cornelia, mother of 
the Gracchi, if along with your estimable virtues you bring 
as part of your dower a haughty and disdainful brow, and 
reckon as a portion of your fortune the triumphs of your 
house! Away, I beg, with your Hannibal and Syphax con- 
quered in his camp, and march with all your Carthage!”’ 
Equally unconducive to a feminine life combining sweet- 
ness with nobility were those later times, when danger was 
always imminent from a tyrant’s lust or jealousy. Agrip- 
pina, travelling with Germanicus in expeditions against 
the Teutonic tribes, might earn the title ‘‘ Mother of the 
Camps ’’; menaced by Tiberius, she might strengthen her 
mind in anticipation of the inevitable storm with the stern 
fortitude becoming to a Roman matron of the house of 
Augustus; but with years and affliction comes an unamia- 
ble sourness of disposition. Livia, Agrippina, and Antonia 
were women of the most unquestionable virtue; but they 
were ungentle in their manner and capable of extreme 
harshness in their methods. We know them fairly well; 
but there is no indication of their interesting themselves in 
any such womanly work as those public charities which 
graced the reign of Trajan, and with which we may be 
reasonably certain that Plotina, his noble consort, actively 


THE SUNSET GLOW OF PAGANISM 361 


sympathized. With assured security of life, woman’s 
heart expanded and her sympathies widened. Faustina, 
the wife of Aurelius, may not have been irreproachable; 
but she is represented in the position of the Lady Bounti- 
ful by the side of her husband in the public distributions. 
Under these noble emperors, a social conscience was de- 
veloped; and there was nothing to prevent or disturb any 
of the genial graces of the home life, which are only 
possible when women are respected and happy. 

During this period, the legal condition of the Roman 
woman was also greatly ameliorated. The acute sense 
of justice which actuated these emperors could not neglect 
this result of civilization. On one occasion, a matron 
stopped Hadrian in the street and begged leave to submit 
to him a matter in which she was suffering injustice. He 
refused to be delayed. ‘‘ Why, then, are you emperor?”’ 
she bitterly exclaimed. This appealed to him; for he was 
conscious that he had no right to govern unless he allowed 
the salutary influence of his rule to extend to all alike. 

A man and a woman, who, though they had cohabited, 
were not legally married, disputed as to the possession of 
their child in order to receive its share of the public allow- 
ance. ‘‘ With whom do you live?’’ asked Hadrian of the 
child. ‘‘My mother,’’ was the answer. ‘‘ You rascal,’’ 
said the emperor to the man, ‘‘ you have no right to this 
allowance.”’ 

‘‘] implore you,’’ cried another woman, ‘‘ to order that 
a part of my son’s allowance be given to me.’’ ‘‘ But, 
my lord,’’ said the son, ‘‘I do not acknowledge her to 
be my mother.’’ ‘‘Then,’’ answered Hadrian, ‘‘I shall 
not acknowledge you as a citizen.”’ 

These, it may be, were only casual incidents; but they 
indicate the sort of rule under which Rome had come, and 
they must have formed powerful precedents in future 


362 WOMAN 


rulings in such cases. Laws were also passed which 
helped to relieve the burden of legal injustice which from 
the first had rested upon the Roman woman. A father 
had it always in his power to compel his son to put away 
his wife, and could thus, if he chose, shatter the life of 
a faithful, loving woman and drive her from her home. 
Marcus Aurelius amended this tyrannical law, so that it 
could only be executed for great and just cause. Under 
the old code, a child was always subject to the condition of 
his mother at his birth; hence, if a free woman, after con- 
ception, was relegated to servitude by sentence of law, 
her child was born a slave. Hadrian decreed that if a 
woman was free at any time during her pregnancy, her 
child should be free. This would seem to be more of a 
relief to the child so born than to the mother; but, apart 
from the mother sympathy, the parent of a free son would 
be much more likely to regain her own liberty. This em- 
peror also decided that women should have the power to 
dispose of the whole of their property by will, on obtaining 
the consent of their guardians. It was soon afterward 
decreed that such a will should be valid without such 
consent, and this made the property rights of the Roman 
woman as untrammelled as such laws have been in any 
country, almost down to the present time. There was 
also a modification of the law of inheritance, so that women 
were allowed to take from their sons; but to avail herself 
of this new law a freedwoman must have had no less than 
four children. 

This material comfort and security of life would, of itself, 
hardly suffice to substantiate Gibbon’s opinion as to the 
superior happiness of this particular period of the world’s 
history; but there was something more. Human life is 
not rendered felicitous solely by the abundance of the 
things which a people possesses; there must be the power 


THE SUNSET GLOW OF PAGANISM 363 


to make the most of and enjoy them. It is with the life 
of a nation as it is with that of an individual—the hap- 
piest age is that immediately previous to the beginning 
of decadence; prior to that, the attention and energy are 
wholly taken up with the process of acquiring. The 
Roman Empire was now, as it were, balanced and resting 
on the summit of its greatness. 

With one or two exceptions, never in the history of the 
world has so large a proportion of the citizens of a nation 
been capable of so fully appreciating the highest mental 
enjoyments. Art in those days was closely inwoven with 
the life of the people; they lived artistic lives. The women 
of that day moved habitually among those objects which 
the ladies of our time go to museums to admire. Their 
eyes were every day accustomed to rest upon the beauti- 
ful structures and statuary which are the wonder and the 
models of modern times. Every home, however modest, 
had about it much of the artistic; every public building 
was a magnificent example of architecture. Nothing was 
purely utilitarian, for life was not sordid. With an ample 
supply of the necessaries and luxuries of existence, and 
perfect protection through wise and beneficently adminis- 
tered laws, this added grace and beauty which pervaded 
everything lacked little to make the life of women in the 
days of Trajan, Hadrian, and the Antonines broader and 
happier than it has been in any other period, ancient or 
modern. 

There were, however, two classes of persons which 
must not be left out of the estimate; and it may be sug- 
gested that a proper understanding of the conditions of 
their existence may detract greatly from the foregoing 
appreciation of the period under discussion: these are the 
slaves and the poor. But, inasmuch as what has been 
said is of the nature of a comparison, it can be justly 


304 WOMAN 


answered that the poor we have always with us, and until 
recently the institution of slavery has been a cherished 
one. At any rate, it was rare that a Roman slave woman 
was ill fed, while compulsory hunger is by no means 
uncommon in modern times. 

Since so large a portion of those Roman slaves were 
women, it will be quite pertinent to our subject if we take 
a glance at this institution of slavery as it existed in the 
ancient world. 

It is estimated that at one time no less than one-fifth of 
the population of Rome was in a condition of compulsory 
servitude. The number was kept up by birth, by the 
slave market, and by war. In ancient times, the creditor 
could sell the family of the debtor; the father also could 
dispose of his children in the same manner. These bar- 
barous measures, however, were less resorted to as man- 
ners grew milder, though the laws permitting them were 
not repealed until the time of Diocletian. Parents had the 
legal right to expose their unwelcome children, and who- 
ever chose to take the abandoned infants owned them as 
slaves; but Trajan granted to such children the perpetual 
right of claiming their freedom, on condition that they could 
prove that of their parents. 

By the ancient law, the slave was nothing but a chattel. 
He possessed no rights, he had no will of his own, he 
was not a person, and could not seek protection from the 
law. Over him his master owned absolute power of life 
and death. Women slaves were wholly subject to their 
owner’s will. They might be required to bear offspring 
for the mere sake of increasing their master’s number of 
servants, with absolutely no regard to any sentiment they 
might cherish relative to such a matter. A slave could 
not legally marry; and for many centuries no union of that 
nature was held to have any binding force. When it is 


THE SUNSET GLOW OF PAGANISM 365 


considered that a large proportion of the slaves owned by 
Roman masters were secured as the spoils of war, or 
by kidnapping, and consequently included many persons 
of both sexes who were well born and educated, it is seen 
how peculiarly cruel was slavery in those times. 
Gradually, principles of humanity prevailed in the soft- 
ening of this condition, and it is probable that instincts of 
humanity on the part of the majority of.owners induced 
them to do better than the law demanded. In the house 
of Columella, every slave woman who had three children 
was set free from labor, and she who had more was eman- 
cipated. During the period of the Antonines, laws were 
passed prohibiting masters from selling slaves to fight in 
the arena unless these had been convicted of some crime 
by public authority. They were not allowed to be left by 
will with the understanding that they were to fight with 
beasts. The killing of slaves became punishable as for 
murder; and even the slave’s honor came to be protected, 
for a complaint could be lodged against the master for an 
attempt on the slave’s modesty. Regard was also paid to 
the natural feelings of these unfortunate persons; for while 
those in a condition of slavery could not legally marry, 
yet, where the nuptial union had been formed it was 
not permitted that the husband and wife should be sepa- 
rated by sale. Thus we see that the Roman slaves, from 
a condition of absolute inhumanity in the days of the early 
Republic, came in the time of the Antonines to be so 
hedged about with the protection of the law that there 
was left little to be desired save the possession of their 
own persons. Still, it is not meant to be asserted that 
even in this mild period there was not ample scope for 
cruelty on the part of barbarous or ill-natured owners. 
Juvenal describes with great indignation how women would 
cause their female attendants to be unmercifully whipped. 


366 WOMAN 


But a just complaint of intolerable treatment was, in the 
reign of Marcus Aurelius, legal ground for compelling 
the emancipation of the slave, or at least for providing 
him or her with a kinder owner. 

Paganism has often been accused of having paid no 
attention whatsoever to public charities. On the con- 
trary, during the period with which we are now occupied 
institutions of poor-relief were founded and were as re- 
markable for the wisdom with which they were organized 
as for the spirit of beneficence which they manifested. 
There was abundance of evidence in Pliny’s time to show 
that his beautiful words were not mere rhetoric: ‘‘It is a 
duty to seek out those who are in want, to bring them 
aid, to support, and make them in a sense one’s own 
family.’’? Has the modern spirit anything better to say 
than this sentence which was inscribed upon a tomb: 
There 1s in life but one beautiful thing, and thts ts benefi- 
cence? The Romans of the Antonine period put this 
sentiment into practical operation in more ways than 
one. Nerva conceived the project of rendering State aid 
to poor parents to enable them to rear their children. 
Trajan, his successor, adopted this scheme and developed 
it on a magnificent scale. As early as the year 100, there 
were, in the city of Rome, as we learn from Pliny, no less 
than five thousand children who received this assistance. 
So much consideration was shown in the arrangement for 
this distribution, that it was ordered that the apportion- 
ment of the sick or absent should be reserved until it was 
sent for. From the Inscription of Veleia, one of the long- 
est which have come down to us, and the table of the 
Bebiani for the apportionment of food among the poor, 
we learn of the poor-relief system under which two hun- 
dred and sixty-four boys and thirty-six girls were sup- 
ported. ‘‘The boys received annually one hundred and 


THE SUNSET GLOW OF PAGANISM 367 


ninety-two sesterces [$9.20], the girls one hundred and 
forty-four [$6.90]. The foundation was established for a 
definite number of children, a number that did not change 
so long as the foundation was not increased; but the 
assistance varied, doubtless with the price of provisions, 
In different localities; thus, at Veleia, sixteen sesterces 
per month; at Tarracina, twenty.’’ The writer of the 
above demonstrates by authorities and examples that from 
sixteen to twenty sesterces per month was sufficient to 
support a Roman child. He continues: 

‘«It cannot be affirmed that the institution was in a 
general measure established in the whole of Italy; but 
coins, inscriptions, and even sculptures, enable us to dis- 
cover it in many places. Thus the bas-reliefs of the Arch 
of Beneventum represent men carrying boys on their 
shoulders, and four women, their heads adorned with 
mural crowns, conducting young girls to Trajan. Do 
these women represent the four towns of the vicinity, or 
are they the symbol of all the cities of Italy which had 
profited by the same benefaction? The second hypothesis 
is the more probable, and Dion confirms it. 

‘*Provincial cities and wealthy individuals followed the 
example given by the emperors; this pagan society, which 
ameliorated the lot of the slave, which was mindful of the 
destitution of its poor, thus showed before its downfall 
that it possessed within itself powers of renewal sufficient 
to save it, had it not been ruined by bad legislation.’’ 

This annuity did not cease with the end of Trajan’s 
reign. Hadrian increased the length of time through which 
the boys and girls were to receive it. It is noticeable that 
fewer girls than boys were assisted, and, while the latter 
received the pension until the age of eighteen, it was 
taken from the girls at the age of fourteen. It must be 
confessed that this introduced a suspicion of utilitarianism 


368 WOMAN 


into the beneficence, girls at that time being considered of 
less advantage to the State than their brothers; but An- 
toninus, who was a man of peace and who would have 
much liked to be able to dispense with the army, in 
honor of his wife increased the number of girls on the 
lists for support; while on the death of the second Fau- 
stina, Marcus Aurelius followed his predecessor’s example. 
Private persons, and especially ladies, also established 
foundations of this kind. To provide for a hundred chil- 
dren at Tarracina, Celia Macrina bequeathed one million 
sesterces; Hispalis profited in a similar way by the legacy 
of a wealthy lady resident. The spirit in which the times 
viewed this subject is shown in the words of Paulus: 
‘‘ Donations,’’ says he, ‘‘may be made to the city, either 
for its adornment or for its honor; and among the things 
which honor a city the most is the practice of giving 
support to infirm old men and to young children of both 
sexes.’’ There is also proof that in many cities physicians 
were Salaried by the municipality and required to render 
gratuitous assistance to the poor. 

It is a fact exceedingly to be regretted that, while we 
find so much that is admirable in this period by means of 
which the female portion of society was benefited and for 
the existence of which much credit is undoubtedly owing 
to the noble women of the time, yet the records of indi- 
vidual women are extremely unsatisfactory. In the first 
place, they are very meagre. Unfortunately, there are 
no such brilliant and copious histories of the reigns of 
Trajan and Hadrian as of those of the previous and less ' 
worthy emperors. Of individual women, apart from those 
of the imperial house of this period, we know nothing. 
The records of the empresses and of their female relatives 
exhibit a similarity to the scandalous accounts of their 
predecessors which is sadly monotonous and entirely 


THE SUNSET GLOW OF PAGANISM 364 


unworthy of the otherwise wonderfully improved condi- 
tions. It is doubtful whether or not the characters of the 
Faustinas could be rehabilitated if trustworthy evidence 
were obtainable; but, even if that were possible, there 
would still be nothing to secure for them equal moral rank 
with their noble husbands. There is a fine exception, 
however, in the character of Plotina, the wife of Trajan. 
In the Vatican Museum there is a bust of this noble woman. 
It shows a lady advanced in years, but with a countenance 
charmingly suggestive of intelligence and moral dignity. 

Trajan was a plain, honest soldier, who, when he was 
proclaimed emperor on the death of Nerva, entered the 
city on foot and recognized his old friends as he passed 
on his way to the palace. Plotina Pompeia accompanied 
him; and as she mounted the steps of the imperial abode, 
she turned to the people and said: ‘‘ Such as 1 am entering 
here, I desire to be when I leave here.’’ She must have 
been then in the prime of her womanhood; for her hus- 
band reigned nineteen years, and she outlived him. Her 
life in the palace, unlike that of the majority of her prede- 
cessors, was distinguished by her unassailable virtue, her 
affability, and her charitable activity on behalf of the 
poor and needy. We may safely be assured that though 
the charitable scheme already described was developed 
by the mind of her husband, he was stimulated thereto by 
the gracious counsel of Plotina. She accompanied her 
husband on his expedition in the East, and was with him 
when he died in Cilicia, whence she carried his ashes to 
Rome. Under Hadrian she still continued to enjoy all the 
honors and titles of a Roman empress. 

The accession of Hadrian to the throne is surrounded 
by a mystery which must forever remain impenetrable. 
Gibbon repeats the gossip which the ancient historians 
handed down as veritable fact, when he says: ‘‘ We may 


370 WOMAN 


readily believe that the father of his country hesitated 
whether he ought to intrust the various and doubtful char- 
acter of his kinsman Hadrian with sovereign power. In 
his last moments, the arts of the Empress Plotina either 
fixed the irresolution of Trajan, or boldly supposed a ficti- 
tious adoption; the truth of which could not be safely dis- 
puted, and Hadrian was peaceably acknowledged as his 
lawful successor.’? Dion asserted on the authority of 
his father, who was Governor of Cilicia, where Trajan 
died, that the adoption never took place and that Plotina 
forged the letters which were sent to Rome, apparently 
from Trajan, informing the Senate of his choice. Some 
even went so far as to say that, the moment after the 
emperor’s death, he not having named Hadrian, Plotina 
caused a man to be placed in his bed to simulate his dying 
voice saying that he appointed Hadrian his successor. 
This is a flimsy story, and rather suggests the triviality 
of the minds of those who concocted it than it impairs 
the character of Plotina. Hadrian had married Sabina, the 
daughter of Matilda, who was in turn the daughter of Marci- 
ana, Trajan’s sister. Moreover, the emperor had showered 
favors upon him, and appointed him to the highest offices. 
To whom else should Trajan leave the Empire? Never- 
theless, it is probable that Hadrian was greatly liked by 
the powerful empress, and she may have shown a deep 
interest in the adoption of the youth by her husband. In 
courts, where there are of necessity jealousy and rival am- 
bitions, from such innocent facts will formidable scandals 
grow. Every other mention of her is evidence against 
the insinuation that the maternal affection of Plotina for 
Hadrian was tinctured with love of a stronger nature. 
Hadrian’s mother was a native of Cadiz. How she was 
held in the esteem of her imperial son is indicated in the 
following letter which he wrote her: ‘‘ All hail, very dear 


THE SUNSET GLOW OF PAGANISM 371 


and excellent mother. Whatever you ask of the gods for 
me, I ask the same for you. By Hercules, I am delighted 
that my acts seem to you worthy of praise. To-day is 
my birthday; we must take supper together. Come, then, 
well dressed, with my sisters. Sabina, who is at our villa, 
has sent her share for the family repast.”’ 

Through the meagre and inconclusive accounts we have 
of the private affairs of Hadrian, the allegation is circulated 
that his life with Sabina was far from being an amicable 
one. The empress was said to be of a morose and sour 
disposition, and Hadrian is even accused of having rid 
himself of her by the help of poison. The latter is a 
calumny unworthy of serious attention. It is altogether 
impossible to believe that, even if the chasm between the 
two were as wide as is reported, the emperor would not 
have sought relief in divorce rather than in murder. How- 
ever praiseworthy may have been Hadrian’s character 
as an emperor, if Sabina stood upon her rights as a wife, 
she had every reason for holding him in supreme con- 
tempt; for common as may have been the vice to which 
there seems to be little doubt Hadrian was addicted, it is 
difficult to believe that any woman retaining the least re- 
spect for herself could at the same time retain any regard 
for such a husband. The state of affairs between this 
imperial couple may have been very unpleasant; but at 
least a semblance of harmony was preserved. Hadrian 
even protected his wife; when Suetonius the historian in 
some way failed in proper respect for Sabina, the emperor 
immediately banished him from the court. The empress 
also seems to have accompanied her husband on many of 
his extensive journeys. We have an interesting proof 
and record of her having been with him in Egypt. She 
ascended the Nile as far as Thebes and visited the statue 
of Memnon, the son of Aurora, who was reported to sing 


372 WOMAN 


every morning in honor of his radiant mother’s return. 
Balbilla the poetess caused three of her verses to be en- 
graved on the leg of the statue, in which she records this 
visit. They are dated the twentieth and twenty-first of 
November, 130. It seems that the god did not show proper 
respect for Sabina, nor did he in the least stand in awe 
of ‘‘the angry countenance of the empress,’’ for on the 
occasion of her first visit he was not in a singing mood. 

From her portraits, one would not judge Sabina to have 
been of a morose and bitter disposition. There is in the 
Vatican a statue of the empress represented as Venus 
Genitrix, while there is also a bust of her in the Capitol 
Museum. If these are faithful likenesses, it is as difficult 
to believe that Sabina was of an unamiable disposition as 
it is to understand Hadrian’s preference for Antinous. In 
connection with this subject Gibbon says that, down to the 
time of Hadrian, Claudius was the only emperor whose 
taste in love matters was at all correct. This being the 
case, it is only just to say that, if example could afford it, 
the empresses had ample excuse for the most flagrant 
irregularities recorded of them. 

Antoninus Pius was adopted by Hadrian and designated 
his successor, without the aid of any woman whatsoever— 
except that Sabina failed to provide an occupant for the 
throne by the act of maternity. 

The wife of Antoninus was Annia Galeria Faustina. 
She had borne him four children; but at the time of his 
accession only one daughter, named after her mother, 
survived. The annals of the period of this reign are 
extremely meagre and unsatisfactory. It has been said 
that while the unanimous praises that are bestowed 
upon the virtues of Antoninus earn for him in pagan his- 
tory the place held by Saint Louis among Christian kings, 
his political career is so uncertain that, as emperor, he 


THE SUNSET GLOW OF PAGANISM 373 


appears before us a half-effaced figure, whose outlines are 
wholly indistinct. 

Faustina the Elder did not live long to enjoy the dignity 
of empress; but in private life she had established for her- 
self such a reputation, if all accounts be true, that she 
simply added one more to the list of immoral empresses 
who had disgraced the palace. Yet it must be admitted 
that these reflections upon her character are extremely 
ill-founded, and indeed there is evidence to the contrary 
which tends to make them seem absurd. Fronto, a phi- 
losopher of the period, pronounced a eulogy upon her, 
concerning which Antoninus wrote: ‘‘In the discourse 
which thou hast devoted to my Faustina I have found 
even more truth than eloquence. For it is the fact—yes, 
by the gods! I would rather live with her on the desert 
island of Gyaros than without her in the palace.’’ This 
is not merely affection; from a man of Antoninus’s char- 
acter, it indicates an esteem which it would have been im- 
possible for him to cherish, or even express, had Faustina 
been the wanton that the unreliable memoirs of the time 
describe her. 

After the death of his wife, Antoninus refused to marry 
again, though he consoled himself with a concubine; he 
would not impart to another woman the honors and the 
position which he had rejoiced to share with Faustina. 
Indeed, such devoted affection is shown in the manner in 
which this emperor revered the memory of his deceased 
wife, that it would be one of the beautiful things in history 
were it not for the fact that the suspicion fastened upon 
her reputation, though very improbable, cannot be entirely 
eradicated, for lack of evidence to the contrary. Anto- 
ninus built a temple to her honor, and after his death the 
Senate reconsecrated it: Jo the god Antoninus and to the 
goddess Faustina. The emperor also did what was far 


374 WOMAN 


more advantageous to his people, and was an equal proof 
of his love for Faustina: he established in the name of his 
wife a charitable foundation for the support and education 
of girls. There is in existence a medal bearing the em- 
press’s image, and on the reverse a representation of Anto- 
ninus surrounded by young children, with this inscription: 
Puelle Faustiniane. 

When Hadrian appointed Antoninus as his successor, 
he obliged the latter to adopt as his son Marcus Annius 
Verus, known in history and in philosophy as Marcus 
Aurelius. The mother of Marcus Aurelius was Domitia 
Lucilla, a lady of consular rank and a descendant of 
Domitius Afer. She seems to have been a woman in 
every way an ornament to these better times. In his 
Meditations, the imperial philosopher acknowledges that 
from his mother he inherited ‘‘ piety, and beneficence, 
and abstinence not only from evil deeds, but even from 
evil thoughts; and further, simplicity of life far removed . 
from the habits of the rich.’? One would like to dwell on 
the character of this sweet-natured, pure-hearted Lucilla. 
It would be an inestimable boon to the interests of his- 
tory and also of moral philosophy if we had a biography 
of the mother of a good emperor; but unfortunately the 
pitiable historians of the time have given us instead scan- 
dals regarding Faustina. There are, however, one or two 
little incidents recorded which warrant us in the belief 
that if we only knew more of her life we should have in 
Lucilla a name and a portrait worthy of a place among 
those of the most honored women of the world. She en- 
couraged her son in his philosophic studies; but when his 
enthusiasm carried him to such an excess of self-discipline 
that he purposed to sleep on bare boards, his mother pre- 
vailed on him to indulge himself with the luxury of a 
sheepskin rug. 


THE SUNSET GLOW OF PAGANISM 375 


Marcus Aurelius expresses his thankfulness that ‘‘though 
it was my mother’s fate to die young, she spent the last 
years of her life with me.’’ In one of his letters to Fronto, 
he describes a day spent in the country during the vintage. 
*“When I returned home,’’ he says, ‘‘I studied a little, 
but not to much advantage. I had a long talk with my 
mother, who was lying on her couch.’’ Those talks with 
a mother from whom he had learned to hate the thought 
of evil were of inestimable value to his character, and thus 
have not been wholly lost to the world. 

On one occasion, Lucilla was noticed by Antoninus Pius 
in the act of earnest prayer before the image of Apollo. 
‘* What think you she is praying for so intently?’’ insinu- 
ated a mischief maker named Valerius Omulus; ‘‘ it is that 
you may die, and her son reign in your stead.’’ Anto- 
ninus ignored the base suggestion in silent contempt. It 
is very possible that Lucilla was praying for her son’s 
reign, but for the worthiness of its character rather than 
for the speediness of its commencement. 

Unfortunately, though it may not be necessary to be- 
lieve all that is said against her, it is at least very apparent 
that Faustina the wife of Marcus Aurelius was not such 
a woman as Lucilla his mother. Gibbon sums up in the 
following paragraph the whole story as it may be gleaned 
from the very indifferent ancient authorities: 

‘«Faustina, the daughter of Pius and the wife of Marcus, 
has been as much celebrated for her gallantries as for her 
beauty. The grave simplicity of the philosopher was ill 
calculated to engage her wanton levity, or to fix that un- 
bounded passion for variety which often discovered merit 
in the meanest of mankind. The Cupid of the ancients 
was, in general, a very sensual deity; and the amours 
of an empress, as they exact on her side the plainest 
advances, are seldom susceptible of much sentimental 


376 WOMAN 


delicacy. Marcus was the only man in the Empire who 
seemed ignorant or insensible of the irregularities of Fau- 
stina; which, according to the prejudices of every age, re- 
flected some disgrace on the injured husband. He promoted 
several of her lovers to posts of honor and profit, and, 
during a connection of thirty years, invariably gave her 
proofs of the most tender confidence and of a respect which 
ended not with her life. In his Meditations, he thanks 
the gods who had bestowed on him a wife so faithful, so 
gentle, and of such a wonderful simplicity of manners. 
The obsequious Senate, at his earnest request, declared 
her a goddess. She was represented in her temples with 
the attributes of Juno, Venus, and Ceres; and it was 
decreed that, on the day of their nuptials, the youth of 
either sex should pay their vows before the altar of their 
chaste patroness.”’ 

It would be a preposterous undertaking to accept a brief 
for Faustina; and yet, judging such evidence as we have 
in the light of common sense, one is inclined to acquit 
her of some charges, or at least to demand for her a ver- 
dict of ‘‘not proven.’’ Who are the witnesses against 
her? Capitolinus, who wrote the life of Marcus Aurelius, 
is one. He wrote in the time of Diocletian, one hundred 
and twenty years after the events. Surely the lapse of 
time will to a certain degree depreciate the value of the 
evidence; and then Capitolinus is an exceedingly poor 
biographer. Dion Cassius is the principal witness; but 
it is very apparent that Dion Cassius was accustomed to 
report indiscriminately every bit of scandal he heard about 
anybody. He was constitutionally malignant. It is very 
doubtful if any modern jury, knowing his character, would 
convict a petty thief on the evidence of Dion Cassius. 
Because Commodus, the son of Faustina, developed an 
abnormal love for bloody sports and manifested a strong 


THE SUNSET GLOW OF PAGANISM sce 


regard for the heroes of the arena, malicious tongues 
asserted that he was the son of a gladiator; but the strong 
resemblance which may be traced in the statues and bust 
of Marcus Aurelius and Commodus is sufficient to refute 
this part of the charge. This likeness is also attested by 
Fronto, who, though he may have desired to compliment 
the emperor, was assuredly a man of too much character 
to adopt this particular method if he knew Faustina to be 
the woman she is represented. Then again, if her habits 
were as vicious as they are described, it is absolutely in- 
conceivable that her husband should have remained in 
ignorance of the fact; it would imply that he must have 
been nothing more or less than an imbecile, which Marcus 
Aurelius decidedly was not. If, on the other hand, he knew 
of his wife’s promiscuous amours, it is incredible that he 
should have had the effrontery to laud his wife’s faithful- 
ness and virtue before the public; it is inconceivable that 
he should have manifested toward her such confidence 
and esteem in their private relations. Our judgment is 
influenced more by the treatment she received from her 
husband than by the venomous testimony of Dion. 

One of the charges against Faustina is that she abetted 
the conspiracy of Avidius Cassius by offering him her 
hand in the event of her husband’s being slain. This 
even the biographer of Cassius denies, and quotes a letter 
of Faustina’s in proof. 

There must, however, have been some cause for these 
reports of the empress’s conduct, even though they are 
greatly\ exaggerated. We may take it for granted that 
Faustina was not worthy of her noble husband. It is 
very possible that she had little regard for his philosophical 
maxims and less liking for his austerities. She may have 
been more forcibly attracted by the handsome appearance 
and gay manner of Verus, her husband’s colleague in the 


378 WOMAN 


Empire; but that she was so absolutely wanton as the an- 
cient anecdotists describe requires no contravention of the 
principles of historical criticism to disbelieve. 

The letters of Faustina to Marcus Aurelius were pre- 
served by Vulcatius Gallicanus, and Victor Duruy says 
they are those of an empress, a wife, and a mother. She 
often accompanied her husband on his many trying ex- 
peditions, and thus gained from the soldiers the title of 
‘‘Mother of the Camps.’’ It was on such a journey, at 
the foot of Mount Taurus, that she died. There has been 
preserved a bas-relief which represents Faustina carried 
by a winged being in human form from the funeral pyre 
to heaven; the emperor sits below and points out to his 
daughter the apotheosis of her mother, while he himself 
follows the departing figure with affectionate eyes. At 
the theatre, her statue, formed of gold, was placed in the 
position which she had been accustomed to occupy. To 
honor her memory, a new foundation for the support 
of the daughters of indigent parents was instituted; and at 
the Villa Albani there is another bas-relief, which repre- 
sents Faustina surrounded by young girls and distributing 
among them corn, which they receive in the folds of their 
dresses. 

In the period of the Antonines, paganism was at its best. 
It was then afforded a magnificent opportunity to show 
how far in the direction of social progress and moral de- 
velopment the human race could be carried under its influ- 
ence, It was on its trial before the evolutionary forces of 
the universe. What is the verdict? That paganism has 
disappeared cannot be said; for much that was essential to 
the system is still inherent in the prevailing religion of the 
civilized world to-day. But how did the ancient system 
of religion respond to the quest for those influences which 
make for human happiness, both for the man and the 


THE SUNSET GLOW OF PAGANISM 379 


woman—for here there can be no distinction? There is 
much in the old system, as it answers for itself in the 
period under discussion, that is extremely satisfactory, 
much that will compare most favorably with like condi- 
tions in modern times. We have seen how a social con- 
science was evolved, and how most admirable methods 
were adopted for the purpose of supporting poor girls and 
boys. It has been noticed how in this period life was 
secure, happy, and beautiful. The conditions of slavery 
were ameliorated, so that involuntary servitude became, 
in some respects, less severe than it was in Christian 
lands during the last century. Woman’s legal position 
was greatly improved, affording her an independence, all 
things considered, which she did not enjoy during the 
Middle Ages. This banner age of paganism was also 
capable of producing such men as Pliny and the Anto- 
nines. Unfortunately, history lacks such records as would 
reveal the best examples of the women who graced this 
period. Instead of the noblest, we have only the most 
conspicuous. We are shown the Faustinas, because they 
lived in the palace; but, notwithstanding the excellence of 
the husbands of these women, it is true that a palace is the 
least promising soil for the cultivation of moral beauty. 
Yet in Plotina and Lucilla we find such characters as war- 
rant the belief that in humbler walks there were many 
women whose lives would not have suffered severe criti- 
cism if they had been tried by the principles of the modern 
morality. 

Much was accomplished under the ancient system; but 
the time exhibited the best possibilities of paganism. It 
could do no better; and it soon prepared to leave the field 
in the possession of a victor. It could not soften the heart 
and thus dispense with its cruelties. It could not emanci- 
pate all its slaves; it contained in itself no indictment of 


380 WOMAN 


slavery. It recognized that all men are of one blood, but 
it did not evolve the idea of universal brotherhood or the 
Golden Rule. It had no argument for morality which 
could appeal to the unphilosophic common multitude. In 
these things it was weighed and found wanting; for these 
reasons it could not perpetuate itself. 


Chapter LIV 
Che Passing of Paganism 


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XIV 


THE PASSING OF PAGANISM 


FROM the reign of Commodus must be dated the begin- 
ning of the Decline. From now on, two influences are at 
work undermining the structure of the ancient Empire; we 
see the double process of disintegration and conversion. 
Pagan civilization had finished its day and must make 
way for the dawn of a newera. The Roman Empire fell 
to pieces because the sword, which was the only bond by 
which its heterogeneous conquests could be held together, 
became insubordinate to the political authority. After the 
second century, the army was rarely led to new foreign 
victories. It became the instrument of revolt; it bartered 
the Empire, and supported or assassinated adventitious 
claimants for the throne at its wild caprice. At last, the 
old Roman spirit having entirely departed, the barbarians 
made an easy prey of the decaying body. 

In the meantime the gods, who, so far as their effective 
existence was concerned, had been long since discredited, 
were deposed from the minds of an increasing number 
of the people, to make room for a new and purer faith. 
But the rise of Christianity did not follow the brilliant day 
of paganism without an intervening night. Literature, art, 
and the science of domestic and social life deteriorated, as 
European society fell to the rude habits of the dark ages 


383 


384 WOMAN 


of feudalism. In this closing chapter, it is our purpose to 
follow the fortunes of pagan woman life down to the time 
when, under Constantine, Christianity became the State 
religion. 

In the accession of Commodus is seen the return to the 
rule of that despotism, joined with moral insanity, from 
which Rome had been free since the days of Domitian. 
The Empire was again allowed to take care of itself, while 
the emperor occupied himself with abominable indulgences 
and murderous executions. 

Under the preceding emperors, moral courtiers had been 
in favor. Now, the opposite example was set, and the 
women as well as the men were much more eager to rush 
into profligacy than they had been, under Marcus Aurelius, 
to take up philosophy. The two empresses were leaders 
in the new fashion. Crispina, the wife of Commodus, 
either carried her intrigues too far or in some other way 
made herself obnoxious to her husband, for she was ban- 
ished to Capri and shortly afterward put to death. It is 
noticeable that the worst men were the quickest to punish 
laxity in the conduct of their own wives. They were 
more suspicious; they had a more alert sense of amorous 
possibilities; they were in a better position to discover 
clues; and they were devoid of conscience, which, at least, 
might have dictated to them a policy of fair play. 

Lucilla, the daughter of Marcus Aurelius and the sister 
of Commodus, inherited nothing of her grandmother’s 
character with her name. Atavism in her case was not 
effectual. She had been the spouse of her father’s col- 
league, Verus, and she retained her imperial honors from 
this connection; so that she occupied the emperor’s box at 
the theatre and had the sacred fire, the symbol of majesty, 
carried before her as she passed through the streets. Her 
lovers were numerous. 


~ 


THE PASSING OF PAGANISM 385 


Apart from such failings as those sensual indulgences so 
customary among the Romans, the reign of Commodus for 
the first three years was fairly respectable. He had as 
yet shown no symptom of mercilessness; but one night, 
as he was traversing an ill-lighted passage in the palace, 
a Senator rushed upon him with the words: ‘‘ The Senate 
sends you this.’’ The threat saved the emperor’s life, 
the guards at once overpowering the assassin. The plot 
owed its origin to Lucilla. Dissatisfied with the second 
place in the Empire, the misguided woman designed, upon 
the death of her brother, to place on the throne one of her 
lovers, with whom she would reign in concert. That 
her destined accomplice was not Claudius Pompeianus, her 
respectable though somewhat aged husband, may be as- 
sumed from the fact that he was not privy to the plot. 
Lucilla was punished with exile and, later, with death. 
From this time, Commodus gave rein to his cruel disposi- 
tion without restraint; the slightest suspicion on his part, 
or an insinuation on that of his favorites, sufficed to author- 
ize an execution. Rome had once been at the mercy of a 
buffoon who was deluded with the idea that he possessed 
a heavenly voice; she was now ravaged by a gladiator 
who believed himself to be a second Hercules. His ex- 
travagance being enormous, and the execution of the rich 
being the easiest way to recuperate the treasury, many 
women as well as men lost their lives on account of their 
wealth. 

Among the possessions of one of his victims, Commodus 
discovered a very beautiful woman, with whom he at once 
fell desperately in love. There is in the Cabinet de France 
a bronze medallion representing the features of Commodus 
and Marcia conjoined in profile. There are also other 
indications that this woman, whom the emperor made his 
concubine, was accorded almost the honors of an empress. 


386 WOMAN 


She is traditionally credited with having been a Christian; 
but, though she may have favored Christianity, and prob- 
ably it was to her influence that its adherents owed their 
safety during this reign, her own life did not so closely 
correspond with the teaching of that faith as to render her 
worthy of the title of Christian. 

Marcia endeavored to dissuade her imperial lover from 
some of his bloodthirsty purposes, and as a reward he 
placed her own name with that of two of his chief officials 
on his tablets which contained the list of the fated. These 
tablets were discovered under his pillow and fell into Mar- 
cia’s hands. She realized that desperate measures were 
immediately demanded. Consulting with the others whose 
lives were threatened, they decided that she should ad- 
minister to the emperor poison in his wine. This she did; 
but, doubtful as to the effect, they introduced a young 
wrestler, who strangled Commodus in his sleep. No assas- 
sination planned by a female mind was ever more excusa- 
ble than this. The act saved Marcia her life, and rid the 
world of one in comparison with whom the monsters slain 
by Perseus were desirable neighbors. 

For a time the Empire went begging for a ruler. Per- 
tinax, a man who from being the son of a charcoal dealer 
had raised himself to the position of consul, was chosen by 
the assassins of Commodus; but Pertinax was not eager 
for the exalted but dangerous position of emperor. He 
offered it to some of the Senators, but they declined the 
magnificent gift with thanks. The soldiers, finding in 
their camp a Senator whom they preferred to Pertinax, 
proposed to make him emperor; but he escaped and ran 
away from the city. Pertinax was at last induced to 
accept; and could he have retained the rule, Rome would 
have entered again upon a period like that of Trajan. He 
refused to allow his wife to take the title of Augusta, 


THE PASSING OF PAGANISM 387 


judging that she had done nothing to earn it. He put 
ap to auction the inmates of the seraglio of Commodus, 
in order to replenish the empty treasury, giving, hows 
ever, their liberty to those who had been forcibly abducted 
from their homes. But his government was too rigid for 
the przetorian guard, and they ended it by assassinating 
him after a reign of only eighty days. 

There was in Rome at this time a woman named Manlia 
Scantilla. She was the wife of a Senator, by name Julia- 
nus, who possessed immense wealth and had filled all the 
highest offices of the State. After the murder of Pertinax, 
Manlia heard that the pretorian guards were offering the 
Empire to the highest bidder. Her household was at 
the moment sitting down to a sumptuous banquet. Manlia 
and her daughter, carried away by their ambition, urged 
Julianus not to miss so favorable an opportunity to seat 
himself on the throne and to clothe them in the imperial 
purple; if wealth was the only qualification, Julianus pos- 
sessed it. He hurried to the camp, and while the father- 
in-law of the dead Pertinax made his offers from within he 
raised them from without the ramparts. At last the Empire 
was knocked down to him for six thousand two hundred 
and fifty drachmas [about one thousand two hundred and 
fifty dollars] to each pretorian. After he had received 
the oaths of his new guards and had been presented to the 
Senate, he went to the palace. There he saw, still un- 
touched, the frugal meal which had been prepared for 
Pertinax. Contemptuously sneering at this, he com- 
manded a banquet to be served that was worthy of an 
emperor, at which he, Manlia, and their friends, while re- 
galing themselves, were entertained by the performances 
of Pylades, a celebrated dancer. Their occupancy of the 
palace, however, was brief. The people were disgusted, 
and the legions in the provinces were roused to furious 


388 WOMAN 


indignation. Pescennius Niger, commanding in Syria, was 
proclaimed emperor by his soldiers, and Septimus Severus 
received the same honor in Upper Pannonia. The latter 
marched upon Rome, and Julianus was soon convinced 
that his high-priced glory was not a good bargain. He 
was without support, though he endeavored to maintain 
the regard of the prztorians by executing Marcia, who 
had slain their darling Commodus; but the guards who had 
sold him the Empire were not minded to sacrifice them- 
selves by maintaining him in its possession. They made 
no resistance when the Senate passed a decree of deposi- 
tion and death against Julianus, at the same time acknowl- 
edging Severus as emperor. The former was beheaded, 
after reigning sixty-six days. 

Once more Rome was to have an emperor worthy of 
the name. The manner in which Severus was received 
in the city was a good omen for his reign. ‘‘At the city’s 
gates,’’ says Dion Cassius, ‘‘ Severus dismounted from his 
horse, and laid aside his military dress before entering 
Rome; but his whole army followed him into the city. It 
was the most imposing sight I ever saw. Throughout 
the city were garlands of flowers and laurel wreaths; the 
houses, adorned with hangings of different colors, were 
resplendent with the fire of sacrifices and the light of 
torches. The citizens, clad in white, filled the air with 
acclamations, and the soldiers advanced in martial order, 
as if ata triumph. We Senators headed the procession, 
wearing the insignia of our rank.’’ 

With the enthronement of Septimus Severus, there came 
to the city as his wife one of the most remarkable women 
of Roman history. Julia Domna was a native of Emesa 
in Syria, but at the same time a Roman subject. Severus 
had lost his first wife while he was governor in Gaul; and 
while he was commanding in Syria he became acquainted 


THE PASSING OF PAGANISM 389 


with the daughter of Bassianus, priest of the Sun. It was 
not alone Julia’s beauty that captivated him, though the 
bust and the noble stola-clad statue which are still pre- 
served at Rome warrant the opinion that a single man of 
any susceptibility might well have excused in himself the 
lack of any other consideration. Severus, however, was 
a student of omens and divination, and well versed in the 
science of astrology. Julia’s nativity had been cast, and 
the stars indicated that she was to be the wife of a sover- 
eign. This decided Severus. He concluded that he could 
not do better than link his fortunes with those of a young 
lady who, though poor at present, had in prospect a future 
so promising. Julia Domna deserved all that the stars 
could predict for her. With the attractions of her person 
were united unusual powers of mind. It is said of her that 
she was capable of great boldness of purpose and equal 
prudence in putting her plans into effect; and to her is 
attributed also a strength of mind that is uncommon in her 
sex. Severus held her in the highest regard, and she was 
so accustomed to accompany him on his expeditions that 
she also earned that title which the soldiers always be- 
stowed on such ladies—‘‘ The Mother of the Camps.’’ On 
inscriptions she was spoken of as domina—the mistress. 
The number of these inscriptions proves the popularity of 
Julia among the Greeks also, by whom she was honored 
as ‘‘a new Demeter.’’ 

This empress was a patroness of letters; her friends 
were principally among the learned and the students of 
philosophy. Severus himself, we are told, greatly admired 
one of the ladies of her circle because she could read and 
understand Plato. It is extremely pleasant, after a long 
list of empresses the records of whose frailties are exceed- 
ingly monotonous, to imagine Julia Domna engaged in the 
study of the highest problems of life and befriending such 


390 WOMAN 


men as Ulpian and Galen. She thus earned for herself 
the title of Julia the Philosopher. There is every reason 
to believe that Diogenes Laertius dedicated to her his 
History of the Greek Philosophers. The book is dedicated 
to a woman who greatly admired the Academy; but as 
the name and the dedicatory epistle are missing, it is not 
absolutely certain whether it was Arria, mentioned in an 
earlier chapter, or the empress, who was thus honored. 
There is no doubt, however, that Julia engaged Philos- 
tratus to write for her the life of Apollonius of Tyana, the 
great Pythagorean thaumaturgist. 

The great historian of the Decline of the Roman Empire 
says that while the grateful flattery of these learned men 
has extolled the virtues of the wife of Severus, ‘‘if we 
may credit the scandal of ancient history, chastity was 
very far from being the most conspicuous virtue of the 
Empress Julia.’? But Gibbon rarely questions an allega- 
tion of this sort; on the other hand, Dion Cassius, who 
zealously reports every such accusation, is, for a wonder, 
silent on this. Julia’s intellectual tastes, not to speak of 
her four children, would be likely to preclude her falling 
into any gross immoralities. 

Associated with the empress in the palace were her sister 
and two nieces, all bearing like her the name Julia. Her 
sister, Julia Mzsa, was no less remarkable than the em- 
press; and in later days, by placing her grandsons on the 
throne, she presided over the destinies of the Empire as 
no other woman had hitherto done. Julia Soz#mias is 
represented on coins as the Heavenly Virgin; but if the 
statement of Lampridius in regard to her mundane frailties 
is to be credited, her lightly adorned statue as Venus was 
more in character. Then there was Julia Mammza, who 
reared one of the best, though not of the strongest, men 
who attained to the purple, and who, by her influence 


THE PASSING OF PAGANISM 301 


over his mind, held the reins of government greatly to the 
immediate profit of the Empire. 

Another lady of the court which surrounded Julia Domna 
was Plautilla, the daughter of Plautianus the prefect. Plau- 
tianus was the emperor’s relative, and by him vested with 
powers almost equal to his own. He was an ambitious 
man, and, while probably faithful to his master, sought to 
secure his own position by marrying his daughter to the 
young prince Caracalla. This marriage was forced upon 
Caracalla much against his will, and proved disastrous to 
Plautilla; but it was an astoundingly magnificent affair. 
Dion relates that he saw the dowry of the bride carried 
into the palace, and declares that it was enough for fifty 
kings’ daughters. The same historian tells of many tyran- 
nous extravagances which Plautianus allowed himself on 
this occasion; but when he informs us that the latter caused 
one hundred freeborn Romans, many of them husbands 
and fathers of families, to be mutilated, in order that his 
daughter might be attended by a retinue of eunuchs in the 
Oriental fashion, our sense of what is possible, even in 
the most despotic circumstances, rebels. The ancient 
anecdotist further says that ‘‘the thing was not known 
until after Plautianus’s death.’’ It is surely inconceivable 
that the wives of these victims should have allowed such 
a thing to pass in silence. 

Caracalla threatened the destruction of his bride and 
her father when he should come to the throne. The latter 
part of this menace he put into effect without waiting for 
his father’s death. Plautilla seems not to have been 
blameless in the matter. Her father made himself the 
enemy of the empress and her son, and Plautilla by siding 
with him turned the indifference of her husband into posi- 
tive hatred. The imperial family was rent with discord. 
Julia Domna did not endeavor to conciliate the powerful 


392 WOMAN 


favorite, and he sought her ruin by means of the new 
laws which had been passed against conjugal infidelity. 
If Dion may be believed in the matter, the prefect went so 
far as to subject women of noble family to torture, in order 
to procure evidence against the empress. This attempt 
does not seem to have been successful, and Caracalla soon 
found an opportunity to avenge the attempt to injure the 
reputation of his mother. Surprising his father with an 
accusation of treason on the part of the prefect, he caused 
the latter to be struck down before the emperor had time 
to ascertain the truth. Shortly afterward, Plautilla was 
exiled to Lipari; and when her husband came to the throne 
he caused her to be put to death. 

Under Severus were decreed a number of laws which 
affected the life and the status of women. He had a 
strong sense of justice. When persons were banished, 
the law required that their property should be confiscated. 
On one occasion, when a mother and her son were about 
to suffer that punishment, the mother begged that enough 
might be taken from her possessions to afford her son the 
bare necessaries of life. The son also pleaded that from 
his property his mother might receive the same mercy. 
This mutual solicitude touched the emperor, and he said: 
‘‘] cannot change the law; but it shall be as you desire.”’ 

He decreed that the husband who did not avenge his 
murdered wife should forfeit whatever of her dowry would 
otherwise legally fall to him. He also commanded that 
women who deprived their husbands of the hope of children 
by producing abortion should be condemned to temporary 
exile. 

There were many women who, in slavery, were reduced 
to the necessity of earning money for their owners by 
their own prostitution. This was their only means of 
securing their liberty. It was made a misdemeanor for 


THE PASSING OF PAGANISM 393 


anyone to reproach them for this misfortune, nor was it 
allowed that any woman should be forced against her will 
to adopt a life of infamy. Women were also prohibited 
from fighting in the arena. The laws against adultery 
were rendered more severe; but, from what we can learn 
of the times, this did not result in any marked effect upon 
social morality. 

There was in existence a law forbidding provincial offi- 
cials, and even their sons, to take wives from the province 
to which they were appointed. This was a wise measure; 
for it is easy to see how these officials, by the power 
afforded them through their position, might, in order to 
secure rich dowries, compel unwilling brides to accept 
their suit. Nevertheless, such marriages at times did take 
place. In order to enforce the spirit of the law, and to 
protect provincials from official tyranny in this respect, 
Severus ordered that an official who had married a wealthy 
heiress in his province should not be allowed to inherit 
from her. 

Since Rome had possessed a standing army it had always 
been the rule that the soldiers should not be permitted 
to marry. The consequence was that the camps were 
surrounded by crowds of profligate women, as well as 
other women who had become the constant companions 
of soldiers but could not be legally married. Severus 
repealed this law and allowed the legionaries to contract 
legitimate marriages. Anyone who is cognizant of the 
effect of the residence of a garrison of unmarried soldiers 
in a European town can understand what a salutary influ- 
ence this enactment of Severus would have upon general 
morality. 

The principal thing in the life of Severus for which he 
can be justly criticised with severity is his appointment 
of Caracalla as one of his successors, and thus allowing 


304 WOMAN 


his parental affection to overcome his judgment of what 
was good for the Empire. 

On their father’s death, Caracalla and his greatly supe- 
rior brother Geta were made joint emperors; but they 
were jealous of each other and could not agree. They 
proposed to divide the Empire. ‘‘ But will you also divide 
your mother?’’ asked Julia; and with many exhortations 
she dissuaded them from resorting to this impracticable 
scheme. 

Rome was once more to be harassed by the fury of a 
youthful monster. Caracalla concluded that one emperor 
would suffice. In order to carry out his purpose, he agreed 
to meet his brother in their mother’s apartments and. there 
discuss terms of reconciliation. While he was conversing 
with Geta, some centurions rushed into the room; and 
though his mother tried to protect her younger son with 
her arms, Caracalla urged the assassins to their work, and 
the empress herself was wounded and also covered with 
Geta’s blood. Afterward, when the murderer found his 
mother in the midst of her female friends weeping over 
the fate of his brother, he threatened them all with death. 
This menace was indeed executed upon Fadilla, a sur- 
viving daughter of Marcus Aurelius. Milman says: ‘‘ The 
most valuable paragraph of Dion, which the industry of 
M. Mai has recovered, relates to this daughter of Marcus, 
executed by Caracalla. Her name, as appears from Fronto, 
as well as from Dion, was Cornificia. When commanded 
to choose the kind of death she was to suffer, she burst 
into womanish tears; but remembering her father Marcus, 
she thus spoke: ‘O my hapless soul, now imprisoned in 
the body, burst forth! be free! Show them, however re- 
luctant to believe it, that thou art the daughter of Marcus.’ 
She then laid aside all her ornaments, and, preparing her- 
self for death, ordered her veins to be opened.’’ Many 


THE PASSING OF PAGANISM 395 


other women died at this time because they were supposed 
to be sympathizers with Geta. 

It would have been an unnatural thing and a disgrace to 
humanity if Caracalla himself had escaped the assassin’s 
hand. His fate came to him in his twenty-ninth year, as 
he was on a pilgrimage to the temple of the Moon; and 
Macrinus, who began life as a slave and was at one time 
a gladiator, reigned in his stead. 

The Empress Julia Domna did not long outlive her son. 
Hers had been a strange career. From a humble position 
she had been raised to that of the highest lady in the 
world; and she had been a power in her time. During 
the reign of Caracalla, though she could not restrain his 
enormities, she had really administered the Empire. With 
her exaltation had also come the most bitter sorrow. One 
son had been killed in her arms by the other; and now 
the fratricide had fallen by the assassin’s weapon. She 
was at Antioch when she heard of her son’s death. The 
news wounded her both as a mother and also as an em- 
press; one who had been the servant of her husband was 
_how to rule over her. Though Macrinus treated her with 
great consideration, life seemed no longer tolerable, and 
_ she resolved to starve herself to death. This resolution 
was not less easy to form, inasmuch as she was suffering 
from an incurable disease. There are some intimations 
that she first thought it possible to raise herself to the 
throne and reign, as did some of her famous female con- 
temporaries in the East; but she soon carried out the 
project dictated by hopelessness and starved herself to 
death. 

After the death of Julia Domna, the other three Julias 
were commanded to return to Emesa, where was the tem- 
ple of the Sun, in which the father of the family had been 
a priest. They were allowed to carry with them their 


396 WOMAN 


wealth; and this gold they soon found a means of using to 
the overthrow of Macrinus. Sogzmias had a son named 
Bassianus, and Mammza also had a son, who is most 
favorably known as the Emperor Alexander. 

Bassianus was consecrated to the priesthood of the Sun. 
Macrinus had made the mistake of stationing a great many 
troops at Emesa, where he had sent these women, with - 
minds full of dislike for himself and a house full of gold 
which they might use to his disadvantage. The soldiers 
fell in love with the young Bassianus, as they viewed his 
fine figure arrayed in the magnificent robes of his priestly 
office. Mzesa spread the idea among these legionaries that 
Bassianus was the son of the murdered Caracalla; the men 
thought they could detect a likeness, and Mesa gave them 
large quantities of gold in order to improve their vision. 
Then they were sure that Bassianus bore a strong likeness 
to Caracalla, who must therefore have been his father. 
Mzsa had no more compunction about sacrificing her 
money than she had about casting an imputation upon 
her daughter’s honor; she considered that the Empire 
would make amends for both, if she could only secure it. 
Bassianus—who was afterward known by the name of his 
god, Elagabalus—was but a youth of fifteen; he was sent 
by his. grandmother to the camp, with wagons filled with 
gold. After distributing these arguments, he was proclaimed 
emperor under the name of Marcus Aurelius Antoninus, 
it being supposed that this honor to the great philosopher 
would gain him favor with the people; and never was a 
better name adopted for the furtherance of a base purpose. 

This was a conspiracy of women; but, owing to the cor- 
rupt character and the power of the soldiery, it succeeded. 
Macrinus made one hesitating effort to maintain his posi- 
tion on the throne; he scattered donations, and his troops 
fought a battle with those of Elagabalus. The latter were 


THE PASSING OF PAGANISM 397 


on the point of being defeated, when Masa and Sozmias 
threw themselves into the fight, and by their courage and 
ardor reheartened the soldiers and thus gained the day. 
Macrinus was not a bad emperor. He was considering 
plans of reform which would have been greatly for the 
benefit of the people; but he was removed to make way 
for the dissolute, effeminate Syrian priest of the Sun. 
There is a cameo of the time, which represents Elagabalus 
riding in a chariot drawn by two women who are crawling 
on their hands and knees. Mesa and Sozemias assuredly 
did debase themselves in dragging such an emperor to the 
palace. His impure religion, added to his natural disposi- 
tion, his absolute power, and his youth, made of his reign 
the very apotheosis of lust. The Senate received an em-. 
peror arrayed in the silken robes of his priesthood to a 
Syrian god, adorned with a tiara, necklaces, and bracelets, 
with his eyebrows tinged and his cheeks painted like those 
of an Oriental woman. 
His grandmother and her two daughters accompanied him 
to Rome. These women differed in their character, and con- 
sequently in their conception of how Elagabalus and them- 
selves should employ the newly gained power. Mzsa had 
been trained under the strict rule of Severus. She knew 
how moderation and attention to the welfare of the Empire 
was the course most likely to bring good results to the 
ruler and his family. The administration she proposed 
to keep in her own hands; but she desired her grandson 
at least to keep himself within the bounds of that liberty 
which in those times was considered decent. Sozmias, 
on the other hand, encouraged the young profligate in the 
belief that it was his right to indulge himself in any manner 
which his inclination warranted and his power made possi- 
ble. Her advice seemed to him the more sensible, and he 
acted accordingly. He allowed his grandmother to take full 


398 WOMAN 


charge of all public matters, only requiring that she should 
not interfere with him in his pleasures. Meesa had her seat 
in the Senate, near that of the Consuls; and for the first 
time Rome was confessedly under the rule of a woman. 
To his mother Elagabalus gave an appointment which was 
in accord with her tastes; she was made president of the 
woman’s senate, which determined for the matrons their 
rank, costumes, and the quantity and nature of ornaments 
which each might wear according to her social position. 
Mammea, however, kept in retirement, and endeavored 
as far as possible to shield her son from the contamina- 
tion which surrounded them and also from the dangers of 
public notice. 

The astounding follies of this reign, the licentiousness, 
the tyrannies, especially as they affected women, cannot 
better be summed up than in this picture drawn by Gibbon: 
‘‘Elagabalus lavished away the treasures of the people in 
the wildest extravagance, his own voice and that of his 
flatterers applauded a spirit and magnificence unknown to 
the tameness of his predecessors. To confound the order 
of seasons and climates, to sport with the passions and 
prejudices of his subjects, to subvert every law of nature 
and decency, were in the number of his most delicious 
amusements. A long train of concubines, and a rapid 
succession of wives, among whom was a Vestal virgin, 
ravished by force from her sacred asylum, were insuffi- 
cient to satisfy the impotence of his passions. The master 
of the Roman world affected to copy the dress and man- 
ners of the female sex, preferred the distaff to the sceptre, 
and dishonored the principal dignities of the Empire by dis- 
tributing them among his numerous lovers, one of whom 
was publicly invested with the title and authority of the 
emperor’s, or, as he more properly styled himself, of 
the empress’s husband.’’ 


THE PASSING OF PAGANISM 399 


What a fall was this from the stern independence and 
the grand morality of the Romans who knew the mother 
of the Gracchi! The Roman Senators had become the 
slaves of a youth who pretended to be a dissolute woman; 
the best ladies of the Empire, however virtuously inclined, 
had no protection for their honor and no redress for their 
injuries, if they attracted the fancy of the emperor or his 
favorites. The ancient gods and goddesses, who, though 
the creations of superstitious imagination, had inspired the 
Romans in their struggle for empire and in that manner 
had aided them in securing it, were made the courtiers 
of the Syrian Sun-god, represented by a shapeless black 
stone. 

The shrewd Masa saw that it would be impossible for 
Elagabalus to retain the throne and at the same time insult 
prejudices which were still dear and deep-rooted in the 
minds of the otherwise indifferent Romans. She deter- 
mined, however, still to keep her family in power. The 
means thereto she found in her other grandson, Alexan- 
der, the son of Mammza. By employing the argument 
that the high priest of the Sun should be uninterrupted in 
his heavenly calling and in his pleasures by the affairs of 
the world, she induced Elagabalus to adopt his cousin and 
invest him with the dignity of Czsar. 

Mammza had encouraged the natural disposition of her 
son, who was inclined to amiability and uprightness; he 
speedily became a great favorite with the people and, what 
was to more purpose, with the soldiery. The son of Soz- 
mias was not so blinded by his follies but that he saw with 
envy the growing popularity of his younger colleague; but 
instead of seeking to emulate his cousin in the good graces 
of the people by reforming his own life, he determined 
to remove his rival after the customary Roman fashion. 
But the watchful Mammza so hedged her son about with 


400 WOMAN 


faithful servants that Elagabalus, who was weak-minded 
enough to talk of all his purposes, could find no instrument 
capable of penetrating this armor of a mother’s care. 

At last the emperor ordered the Senate to degrade Alex- 
ander from the dignity of Czesar, while at the same time 
he sent assassins to murder him. The latter, for the rea- 
son already stated, failed in their errand; and the Senate 
received the command in silence and indignation. The 
soldiers were furious. They commanded the boys to be 
brought before the Senate, and charged that body to pro- 
tect the one and see to the reformation of the manners 
of the other. The soldiers reproving the conduct of their 
emperor represents exactly the position which the sup- 
posed chief ruler of the Roman world now occupied. He 
was the subject of the army. ) 

The rivalry between the two princes soon came to a 
crisis, and Mammea, in order to save her son, set herself 
against her sister. Each of the two women endeavored to 
incite the prztorians against the other. Mammeza won; 
and Sozmias and her infamous son were slain. 

Alexander was raised to the supreme position; but, being 
a dutiful and obedient youth, he allowed those two noble 
women, his grandmother and his mother, to hold the reins 
of government and also to advise him in his own personal 
conduct. The former, however, soon died, and Mammza 
was constituted sole regent. 

Mammzea was a woman who exhibited in herself the 
highest type of intelligence, as well as an honorably regu- 
lated life. She was a patroness of all learning and a 
student of philosophy. It was her desire to become ac- 
quainted with all theories concerning the highest problems 
of human existence; so much so that she sent for Origen, 
the best-educated Christian of his time, in order that she 
might satisfy her curiosity in regard to the teachings of 


THE PASSING OF PAGANISM 401 


that rapidly spreading faith. She did not, however, be- 
come a Christian; even had she been convinced of the 
truth of Origen’s doctrines, her position demanded of her 
a policy which, viewed from an entirely mundane stand- 
point, she could not afford to abandon. She had provided 
her son with instructors who were not only noted for their 
learning, but also for their unquestioned integrity. Hero- 
dian says: ‘‘The statues of the gods which Elagabalus had 
taken away were at once restored to their places. Those 
officials who had unworthily obtained office were dismissed 
and their places filled by the most capable citizens. In 
order to preserve the emperor from the mistakes which 
might be caused by absolute authority, the ardor of youth, 
or by some of the vices natural to his family, Mammza 
strictly guarded the entrance to the palace, and allowed no 
man to gain admission whose morals were of bad repute.’’ 

Mammeza not only guarded her son, but, in his name and 
$0 far as the palace was able to reserve any real authority 
from the power of the camp, she ruled the Empire. She 
was wise and broad-minded enough to care nothing for the 
title and pageantry of rule; indeed, the indications seem 
to be that she was more anxious to reéstablish good gov- 
ernment than to hold the reins herself. Herodian says 
that she made an effort to bring back good morals and 
the ancient dignified demeanor. She caused to be chosen 
sixteen Senators, the most eminent for experience and 
integrity of life, to form an imperial council, and without 
their approval no measures were carried into execution. 
The people, the army, the Senate, tne historian assures 
us, were delighted with this new form of government, 
which replaced the most insolent of tyrannies by a sort of 
aristocracy. From the time of Commodus to that of Con- 
stantine, Rome had no better government than that which 
was inspired by the genius and ability of Mammza; and 


402 WOMAN 


if the organization and the subordination which existed in 
the time of Trajan had still prevailed, the rule of this 
remarkable woman would have equalled in uprightness 
and beneficence that of any period in the history of the © 
Empire. 

The care of Mammeza in the education of her son was 
rewarded by its good effect upon his character. Virtue 
for him never lost its charm, and a fearless advocacy 
of the right made him respected by all. He inscribed over 
the entrance to his palace, and had the heralds proclaim 
when criminals were chastised, these words, which it is 
probable his mother may have learned from her interview 
with Origen: Do not to another what you would not have 
done to yourself. 

While Mammzea was not jealous of public honors and 
titles, she was avaricious in regard to the affections of her 
son; there she could not endure a rival. With her con- 
sent, he married the daughter of a patrician; but his love 
for his young wife, as much as his respect for his father- 
in-law, caused Mammza to have the latter executed on a 
charge of treason and to banish the empress into Africa. 
It is somewhat derogatory to the character of Alexander 
if, as Dion assures us, he lamented the fate of his wife but 
durst not oppose it. How his second wife fared with his 
mother we do not know. Her name was Sallustia Orbiana. 
On a medallion she is represented as wearing a diadem; 
the other side of the medal is inscribed with the words 
FECVNDITAS TEMPORVM, and there Orbiana is shown 
seated, while Fecundity, kneeling before her, holds a horn 
of plenty and carries two children. 

The faults of Mammzea were avarice and her insistence 
upon dominating over her son after he had attained the 
years of manhood; and these errors in the end brought 
about the ruin of herself and Alexander. The people 


THE PASSING OF PAGANISM 403 


were glad of a respite after the excesses of Caracalla and 
Elagabalus; but they were not prepared for an empress- 
regent who spent nothing on entertainments and gave no 
donations, or for an emperor whose policy was formed on 
Plato’s Republic. Julian, who characterized the Cesars, 
represents Alexander Severus sitting sadly on the steps of 
the hall where the emperors and the gods are banqueting; 
Silenus mocks at him and at his mother, who hoards her 
treasure; while Justice consents to chastise his murder- 
ers, but has little sympathy for ‘‘the poor fool, the great 
simpleton, who in a corner bewails his misfortune,”’ 
Only a strong man who could manage the army as 
Severus had done could save himself in the Rome of that 
day. When Maximin, a barbarian of immense personal 
strength and lifelong military experience, headed a revolt 
in the army, the soldiers were quite ready to believe that 
the Empire had long enough been ruled by ‘‘a parsimo- 
nious woman and a pusillanimous boy.’’ While on an 
expedition, the emperor endeavored to maintain peace by 
making presents of gold to the Germans; this, above all 
things, was displeasing to soldiers who, besides being eager 
to ply their trade, expected to gain gold by war rather 
than by it to purchase peace. The emperor was slain in 
his tent, after reigning thirteen years, and his mother, who 
had been at all times the real ruler, perished with him. 
Alexander had favored the enemies of the ancient gods, 
and even decided to the advantage of the Christians when 
there occurred a dispute in regard to some land in Rome 
which they claimed in opposition to certain innkeepers. 
‘‘It is better,’’ he said, ‘‘ that this spot should be occupied 
by a house of prayer than by a house of debauchery.”’ 
Mammea has even been claimed for Christianity; but on 
her coins she was represented as the beneficent Juno, 
and at her death the Senate decreed her apotheosis. The 


404 WOMAN 


end of paganism was not yet. It was to prove its linger- 
ing vitality by its fierce and final death struggles under 
Decius and Diocletian. 

From this time there was a quick succession of emperors, 
most of whom were slain almost as soon as created. The 
State was becoming constantly more disorganized. Every 
province desired its own emperor; and down to the time 
of Diocletian, civil war was almost constant. Morals did 
not improve, and families took on more and more the 
appearance of Oriental establishments. We read of one 
emperor, Carinus, in the course of a few months taking 
successively no less than nine wives, each of whom was 
divorced to make room for the next. In his time, the 
palace was filled with dancers and prostitutes, who were 
even invited to the imperial table. Though morality suf- 
fered in the palace and among the nobility, among the 
common and middle-class people there was working a 
leaven which provided a new and more effective argument 
for the ancient purity of manners. 

The status and condition of women underwent no legal 
change during this period. Their manner of life remained 
very much the same, for in those days there were no in- 
ventions such as in modern times change the whole aspect 
of social life within fifty years; but all the time there 
was passing away from among the people that ancient 
spirit which we now speak of as classic. Art was depre- 
ciating; the old religion was living on its past. Imagi- 
nation was dead, and consequently creation had ceased. 
Paganism, that had learned to satisfy itself with the black 
stone of Elagabalus, had no need of art. Statues were 
still made, temples were frequently built; but there was 
no original genius. The Christianity of that early time 
did not favor art. In literature, the educated had also to 
depend on the past, except as they were satisfied with 


THE PASSING OF ‘PAGANISM 405 


productions so inferior that nothing save accident can ex- 
plain their preservation. The old Roman largeness of life 
was no more, and even the joyousness which had asso- 
ciated itself with some phases of paganism had departed. 
The twilight preceding the dark ages was deepening; the 
cycle of history was again falling toward the lowest point 
of its orbit. : 

In the Museum of the Capitol, there is one bust of an 
empress in which it is easy to fancy that one sees typified 
the spiritlessness of the life of the woman of the period. 
It is that of the Empress Salonina, the wife of Gallienus. 
The face is finely featured, but profoundly sad; it reminds 
one more of a pictured saint of the Middle Ages than of a 
pagan Roman empress. The hair, parted in the middle, 
hangs in a plain loop behind; there is none of that gay and 
frequently bizarre dressing which characterized the heads 
of the women of a former time. We can account partly 
for Salonina’s sad demeanor. Her husband brought home 
one Pipa, the fair-haired daughter of a barbarian king; 
this Pipa he not only made his concubine, but seated her 
on the throne, beside the empress. Salonina could only 
console herself with her empty honors, and occupy her 
mind with researches into the mazy philosophy of the 
Neo-platonists. It has been thought, on account of a 
medal bearing her image and the words im pace, that she 
became a Christian; but, though undoubtedly she was 
greatly interested in the tenets of Christianity, and though 
her husband, it may be by her advice, published a decree of 
toleration in regard to the growing faith, the Church could 
not have admitted one who built a temple to a pagan goddess 
and never abjured the practice of the old religion. The 
countenance of Salonina is a type of the face of the ancient 
life, out of which the light has departed and which has not 
yet become illumined by the hope inherent in the new faith, 


406 ‘ WOMAN 


Religious ideas were now greatly confused. There were 
many who were not prepared to abandon the old gods and 
who were yet impressed with the new doctrine. One 
lady built a chapel in which she burnt incense before 
statues of Jesus, Pythagoras, Homer, and others. Fre- 
quently, in the persecutions, noble women were obliged to 
offer sacrifices in order to prove to the judges that they 
were not Christians. In many cases, the historians of the 
new religion claimed for adherents those who were only 
tolerant inquirers. Even in those days, the high position 
which a lady held made the bishops anxious to Claim 
her as an adherent, before her conduct had become con- 
formed to the Christian requirements. 

The ancient deities were ready to take their departure, 
since even those who consistently supported the State 
religion retained but little faith in them; but Diocletian 
proved himself not only a firm ruler but also a lover of 
the old system. His decree ran: ‘‘ The Christians oppose 
themselves to the laws of the State, which enjoin the 
worship of the gods; let them either sacrifice or suffer 
the penalty.’’? Even the imperial household was to be 
put to the test, and it is believed that it was with reluc- 
tance that the emperor’s wife and daughter burned the 
grains of incense. 

In the province governed by Constantius, however, the 
edict was carried out with great lukewarmness; and soon 
the son of Constantius sat on the throne of Diocletian, 
and by his side was the Christian Helena. In this woman 
we see the transition from paganism to the new religion. 
Yet there is no clear record of her conversion; there is 
no mark in her life to indicate that it was in any moral 
sense created anew. So it was with Roman society. 
Women intrigued and took part in sensual indulgence and 
cruel revenge after Constantine had seen the Cross in 


THE PASSING OF PAGANISM 407 


the sky, just as they had done before. The new doctrine 
was a leaven which required many centuries to spread; 
but in the meantime the ancient paganism, with all its 
grandeur and all its weakness, had disappeared, just as 
the ancient type of Roman womanhood had given place to 
a new womanhood of conglomerate nationality, with more 
privilege but not more character. 

In the days of Valentinian, when the pagan worship 
was definitely prohibited, the orator Symmachus repre- 
sented the old religion as an aged matron pleading thus 
for tolerance: ‘‘Most excellent princes, fathers of your 
country, pity and respect my age, which has hitherto 
flowed in an uninterrupted course of piety. Since I do 
not repent, permit me to continue in the practice of my 
ancient rites. Since I am born free, allow me to enjoy 
my domestic institutions. This religion has reduced the 
world under my laws. These rites have repelled Hannibal 
from the city and the Gauls from the Capitol. Were my 
gray hairs reserved for such intolerable disgrace? I am 
ignorant of the new system I am required to adopt; but I 
am well assured that the correction of old age is always 
an ungrateful and ignominious office.’’ 

The history of the Roman woman we have essayed to 
recount has run contemporaneously with the life of this 
worship of the old gods. What she was that religion 
largely made her. In it she found inspiration for her 
brave deeds; its ideals were the expression of her love 
of beauty; it strengthened her fortitude in times of trial; 
and when we remember her frailties, charity must also 
remind us that, apart from her own nature and the custom 
of her time, this religion was all that she had. 


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